|
But when of water-colour work I sing
|
|
|
|
A Sun-kissed field of golden, billowed grain
|
|
|
|
The New translates the Old: forms fade and fail
|
|
|
|
What colour-worker shall inform his strain
|
|
|
|
Lerolle a Flight to Egypt has essay'd
|
|
|
|
Of drawing crude and colour like the night
|
|
|
|
Great art achieves the beauty of repose
|
|
|
|
To draw is not to moralize but see
|
|
|
|
A Slop-pot painted with artistic grace
|
|
|
|
Israels caters to the worldly-wise
|
|
|