I thought
Of
It,
He
Confessed,
Then
I forgot.
Said
I would,
Knew
I should,
Then
Enmeshed
In
All
The
Rest,
Did
Not.
I imagined
I was
Unfit,
I admit,
Did
Not
Take
Up
My
Pen,
Stretch
A
Canvas
And
Begin.
Hesitation
Was
My
Sin.
I lingered
At
The
Door,
Too
Timid
To
Knock,
Bedeviled
By
The
Clock,
And
In
My
Riches,
Thought
Myself
Poor.
Lovers
Of
Beauty,
Do
Your
Duty
Most
Sacred.
Most
True.
In
Art,
Nothing
Less
Will
Do.