He dipped his brush in liquid zest,
And painted out his soul.
For Leo knew nothing of rest;
Into love’s sick land he stole.
His mistress dressed in beauty true,
A veritable femme fatale,
Yet in this world among the few,
Was he under Her spell.
For Leo sought to court the one
Who took Art as her name,
And though suitors many he’d outdone,
Did he win the fair dame?