The Artist

Why do you subdue yourself in golds and purples?

Why do you dim yourself with folded silks?

Do you not see that I can buy brocades in any draper's shop,
And that I am choked in the twilight of all these colours.

How pale you would be, and startling,
How quiet;

But your curves would spring upward
Like a clear jet of flung water,
You would quiver like a shot-up spray of water,
You would waver, and relapse, and tremble.
And I too should tremble,
Watching.

Murex-dyes and tinsel --

And yet I think I could bear your beauty unshaded.