My love comes to pose for me
though never shall I lift a painter’s brush
nor chip a stone
I know how a simple beam of light portrays her face
the artist is a loving eye
my art is love alone
I would make with waking touch
a sketch upon her mood
highlights to the rested head
shading if she brood
out of the night a thousand portraits of my love have grown
the artist is a loving eye
my art is love alone.