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The Artist

From The Sun, June 13, 1915.

When nature with a mission grave
    Was by the Lord endowed
She painted on the sea a wave
    And on the sky a cloud.
And on the land she drew a hill
    And on the hill a tree,
And in the vale she placed a rill
    That traveled to the sea.

And then, progressing without doubt,
    She took a little brush
And in the stream she placed a trout,
    And on the tree a thrush.
And on the waves she painted foam
    And roses in the wild;
And in the shelter of a home
    A woman and a child.

And did all this perfection bring?
    Ah, no! Experience shows
She caused the little thrush to sing,
    Gave perfume to the rose.
And best of all, the artist wise,
    And in her happiest style,
Put love into the woman’s eyes
    And made the baby smile!

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