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Pebbles and Shells (Hawkes collection)/To an Artist at Her Easel

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4657235Pebbles and Shells — To an Artist at Her EaselClarence Hawkes
TO AN ARTIST AT HER EASEL
It was a fair October day,
The distant hills were gold and brown,
And yet the heavens could not frown,
Though Summer's joys had passed away.
Upon the grass I musing lay,
And watched an artist's magic skill
That slowly formed a distant hill;
And, in my heart I longed to say,
If thou couldst paint the eager face,
The parted lips, the fevered brow,
The earnest gaze that fronts me now,
Thy face would surely grow apace,
I swear it by my truthful pen
Thy name would be immortal then.