An Artist

Kenyon-Cox - Augustus Saint Gaudens

I love the thought of his anger.

The way he was a dog barking 

at the image of himself barking.

And his hatred of his own embrace

of working as the only thing that worked -

the vulgarity of expecting ever

gratitude or admiration, which

would mean a stealing from him.

The way his fortitude held and hardened

because he did what he knew.

Seamus Heaney, An Artist (edited)