by Laurence Hope
A sky intensely blue, a low, white wall
Against it heaps of up-blown yellow sand,
A sleeping figure, holding in her hand
Some scarlet cactus blossom; that was all.
And yet so mellowly the sunbeams fell
Upon the sunburnt limbs, such subtle play
Of rosy light and tender shadow lay
Upon the upturned face, that all could tell
An artist painted with a poet's eyes;
And warmly an enthusiastic glow
Ran through the groups that criticised, below
While one, who gazed with pleasure and surprise
Said, and I do not think he said amiss,
"He was her lover when he painted this!"
Last updated January 14, 2019