Page:Songs of the Road Doyle.djvu/34

Rh And that is how our artist friend

Found his struggles at an end,

And from his little Chelsea flat

Became the Park Lane plutocrat.

'Neath his sheltered garden wall

When the rain begins to fall,

And the stormy winds do blow,

You may see them in a row,

Red effects and lake and yellow

Getting nicely blurred and mellow.

With the subtle gauzy mist

Of the great Impressionist.

Ask him how he chanced to find

How to leave the French behind,

And he answers quick and smart,

'English climate's best for Art.'