Drawing - A Poem
Drawing
I saw the the original depict of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the sketch.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the sketch,
Gently it goes - the free, the simple, the unoriginal.
How happy is the crude draftsmanship!
Does the draftsmanship make you shiver?
does it?
A print, however hard it tries,
Will always be burdensome.
Never forget the hairy and heavy-minded print.
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