SONNET FOR A PICTURE 
 
“ ‘ ποικιλοθρον’ , ἀθανατ’ ’ Αφροδιτα. ” 
Σαπφω. 
 
“—We have seen 
Gold tarnished, and the gray above—” 
—SWINBURNE. 
 
AS some lone mountebank of the stage may tweak 
The noses of his fellows, so Gavin 
Tweaks with her brush-work the absurd obscene 
Academicians.  How her pictures speak ! 
Chiaroscuro Rembrandtesque, form Greek ! 
What values !  What a composition clean ! 
Breadth shaming broadness !  Manner epicine ! 
Texture superb !  Magnificent technique ! 
 
Raphael, Velasquez, Michael Angelo, 
Stare, gape, and splutter when they see thy colour, 
Reds killing roses, greens blaspheming grass. 
O thou art simply perfect, don’t you know ? 
Than thee all masters of old time are duller, 
O artiste of the Quartier Montparnasse ! 
 
[This parody on the style of my own poems on the Art of 
Rodin was written to furnish the subject of it with a critical 
eulogium for domestic use.  May she forgive one who has 
not less a sincere admiration for her work be-cause he is 
capable of a jest at its expense !—A. C.] 
 
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