When I first saw your lady kneel
In self-content, before the glass
Some chord of long delight decreed
That I must see her maker’s face.

And so we met, my friend, and then
Some alchemy was born in need;
Your art adds magic to my spell,
My words give meaning to your creed.

Now for each hour you spend alone
With painful themes that I have wrought,
Your art disturbs my very dreams,
Your figures rule each line I wrote.

In some unseen far future, they
May say we once brought long delight,
That we burned candles through dim hours
At either end of our midnight.

David Lewis Paget