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.