To an Artist

When I first saw your lady kneel

In self-content, before the glass

Some chord of long delight decreed

That I must see her maker’s face.

 

And so we met, my friend, and then

Some alchemy was born in need;

Your art adds magic to my spell,

My words give meaning to your creed.

 

Now for each hour you spend alone

With painful themes that I have wrought,

Your art disturbs my very dreams,

Your figures rule each line I wrote.

 

In some unseen far future, they

May say we once brought long delight,

That we burned candles through dim hours

At either end of our midnight.

 

David Lewis Paget