Dedication
Robert W. Service
In youth I longed to paint
  The loveliness I saw;
And yet by dire constraint
  I had to study Law.
But now all that is past,
  And I have no regret,
For I am free at last
     Law to forget.
To beauty newly born
  With brush and tube I play;
And though my daubs you scorn,
  I’ll learn to paint some day.
When I am eighty old,
  Maybe I’ll better them,
And you may yet behold
     A gem.
Old Renoir used to paint,
  Brush strapped to palsied hand;
His fervour of a saint
  How I can understand.
My joy is my reward,
  And though you gently smile,
Grant me to fumble, Lord,
     A little while!