I painted a woman of the street, Brazen, but, oh, so fair! I bade her sit in the model's seat And I painted her sitting there. She looked at my picture and bade me stay. Then let down her flowing hair, Loosen'd the velvet window drape Leaned cross my reading chair. Her lips met mine, her meaning clear Demanding and past all care. She deftly unbuttoned my clothes and hers Brought my hand to her bosom fair. Then she lay in my arms, gave herself to me On the Turkish carpet, bare, And her portrait now hangs by the altarside In the church of Saint Hillaire.
Author:
Bill Gawne