CONVENTIONAL ART; OR, RAPHAEL JOHN AND THE MOON.

A sadder moon you never knew. She was sailing away (As poets would say) O'er heaven's deep bay Of invisible blue: But of what avail Was her silvery trail, When the earth, rolling by In the distant sky, Brought a zealous young artist to view.

For Raphael John was learning to draw; He could "do" very fair A table or chair, And he thought he might dare "Do" the moon; for what flaw In the world could be found If he made it look round, And with nose, mouth, and eyes, Like the one in the skies, A likelier moon, why, who ever saw? But Raphael John was an artist too free And a boy far too smart To mistake for true art What is only a part Of her sphere; so, thought he, "Not to make it too real, I will add my ideal Of a face. Who need care If I just—bang her hair?" But a madder moon you never did see.