He
Was
A
Goer,
That
Gauguin,
Down
In
Tahiti,
Getting
A
Tan.
Painting
In
A
Fever,
A
True
Believer
In
Nature
Naked
And
Itself,
Civilization
On
A
Proper
Shelf.
Painted
In
A
Trance
Maidens
Dancing
In
An
Idyll,
Far
From
France.
Before
He
Had
Scarcely
Begun,
He
Died,
And
In
His
Pride,
Ordered
His
Painted
House
Burned
Down,
To
Become
One
With
The
Fertile
Ground.