Oh, Muse, bemused me, no true self have I
Many a-mask have fallen to paint me
My canvas is contrite and still I lie
And, oh, for Fortune you’re denied to see
What foul bristles wash and stroke mien anew
Today was blue, yester a shade gayer,
Tomorrow, expect my art gift to you
Quick, more pastels! New friends, another layer
But, like any piece, Time wills it ‘way fade.
And perfection tainted by the past one,
Please ask yourself, who amongst is not made?
And whose vibrant colors have not mixed dun?
Come, let’s look on at my new piece,
So the patrons of my art ever increase.