Page:Late lyrics and earlier, with many other verses (IA latelyricsearlie00hardiala).pdf/143

Rh This was to delve at whiles for easellumber, Stowed in the backmost slums of a soon-reached city, Merely on chance to uncloak some worthy canvas, Panel, or plaque, blacked blind by uncouth adventure, Yet under all concealing a precious art-feat, Such I had found not yet. My latest capture Came from the rooms of a trader in ancient house-gear Who had no scent of beauty or soul for brushcraft. Only a tittle cost it—murked with grimefilms, Gatherings of slow years, thick-varnished over, Never a feature manifest of man's painting.

So, one Saturday, time ticking hard on midnight Ere an hour subserved, I set me upon it. Long with coiled-up sleeves I cleaned and yet cleaned, Till a first fresh spot, a high light, looked forth, Then another, like fair flesh, and another;