Ahh...
Ooh...
Mmm...
Oh, dear.
Oh, my.
Oh, my dear.
It has no presence.
No passion.
No life.
Ahaha!
It's neither pastoral
Nor lyrical.
You don't suppose that it's satirical?
Hm? Oh!
Just density
Without intensity--
No life.
Boys with their clothes off--
I must paint a factory next!
Ahahaha!
It's so mechanical.
Mm-mm-mm!
Methodical.
It might be in some dreary
Socialistic periodical.
So drab, so cold.
And so controlled.
No life.
His touch is too deliberate, somehow.
The dog.
Ahahahahahaha!
These things get hung--
And then they're gone.
Ahh...
Of course he's young--
But getting on.
All mind no heart.
No life in his art.
No life in his life.

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