Song's for the asking, Music's dear, Tattered notes in the discerning ear Spill'd colours across the canvas spread Undaunted the artist looks ahead.
Clumsy feeling stumbles across the page Spidery lines are traced as if in rage At mocking crowds that anticipate His failure at the hands of a laughing Fate.
Anger spills from a slashing stroke of red Anguish from the easel rears its head In green, the world, his fancies capture Dull moves the brush, in reluctant rapture.
Hollow songs by struggling fingers born Orchestrated by a soul that's torn 'Twixt turning in Logic and Reason's dance Or twirling in a graceful dream filled trance.
His eyes are open, he seems to gaze Sightless, staring as in a daze Hearing songs that alone he can hear Strangers to the mortal ear.
And visions of elfin beauty spring That to the canvas his brushes bring Of golden sun, rustling trees and mirth Frolicking clouds between sky and earth.
Once reluctant fingers dazzling play Joy's songs to lighten a gloomy day And those who watched a canvas bare Now stop in wonder to turn and stare.
βThere's magic in that artist's handβ They say as wonderstruck they stand Fame's halo rings a bowed head His dread is gone and in its stead
Recognition sounds its clamourous gong Shatter'd peace, and shattered song Inspiration got lost along the way Mediocrity now holds its sway.
He longs again for the mocking stare, The time to stand and not to care As running colours on the canvas spread And he, unknown, just looks ahead.