SHE: Yet womanhood you reverence,
So you profess!
HE: With heart and soul.
SHE: Of which fact this is evidence!
To help Art-study,- for some dole
Of certain wretched shillings,- you
Induce a woman- virgin too-
To strip and stand stark naked?
HE: True.
SHE: Nor feel you so degrade her?
HE: What
– (Excuse the interruption)- clings
Half-savage-like around your hat?
SHE: Ah, do they please you? Wild-bird-wings
Next season,- Paris-prints assert,-
We must go feathered to the skirt:
My modiste keeps on the alert.
Owls, hawks, jays- swallows most approve …
HE: Dare I speak plainly?
SHE: Oh, I trust!
HE: Then, Lady Blanche, it less would move
In heart and soul of me disgust
Did you strip off those spoils you wear,
And stand- for thanks, not shillings- bare,
To help Art like my Model there.
She well knew what absolved her- praise
In me for God’s surpassing good,
Who granted to my reverent gaze
A type of purest womanhood.
You clothed with murder of His best
Of harmless beings- stand the test!
What is it you know?
SHE: That you jest!
