My Madonna

 I haled me a woman from the street,
 Shameless, but, oh, so fair!
I bade her sit in the model's seat
 And I painted her sitting there.

I hid all trace of her heart unclean;
 I painted a babe at her breast;
I painted her as she might have been
 If the Worst had been the Best.

She laughed at my picture and went away.
 Then came, with a knowing nod,
A connoisseur, and I heard him say;
 "'Tis Mary, the Mother of God."

So I painted a halo round her hair,
 And I sold her and took my fee,
And she hangs in the church of Saint Hillaire,
 Where you and all may see.

Form: Ballad

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