Classic Poem

You would have loved them at the Mermaid,
Velasquez.
You and Shakespeare would have drunk
a pot of ale together,
And talked of cabbages and kings, of callots
and little princesses with flaxen hair.
And you would have painted him —
we should have known how he looked —
And he would have put you in a play.
So true and sure — grand-hearted! —
For whom dwarfs and beggars and jesters
were good enough, and King Philip on his throne
was not a whit too good;
You who couldn't help telling the truth
when your brush felt the color on it,
The truth of your loves and doubts —
(And oh, how tenderly the truth about a child —
about solemn little Balthazar Carlos
on his rearing steed;
about little Princess Margaret standing stiff
in her scarlet-and-silver crinoline,
but soft and sweet as a wild-rose heart within) —
You, Velasquez, man, lover, artist,
seer and revealer of life;
You who loved your neighbor,
and tried, perhaps in vain, to love your God;
You who knew your neighbor
and despaired of knowing God:
Yes, Shakespeare, like the rest, would have been
none too good for you;
And Christ, looking at your pictures of him,
would have said, " Never mind, friend. "