And gazed at his work with a thoughtful eye;
"It is good," he murmured, "yet not quite good,"
He had labelled it Midsummer Eve in a Wood,
But the gods knew why.
A lady's eyes and a calf-topped boot,
And a ticket (punched) for the Highgate Tube,
He had painted there, with some crimson fruit
And a couple of uptorn elms, each root
A perfect cube.
"It is better than all those beastly Dutch