Eduard came night after nightAnd sat at his table to take in a view
Those bangs, the straight nose, the hour glass
And waited for her to sigh
But it was only that green liquor to take him away
But could not forget that down-ward gaze
Her painted face couldn't hide her beauty
The milk-maid nee' bar-maid
And that small mouth
That he could only guess would taste of
Garden peaches
The only way to capture her for himself would
Be to put her on canvas
Because he would never be able to capture her between his sheets
Her downward cast gaze matched his forlorn stare
Ah well, Eduard knew that there two-franc women
And that was a lottery he could win
4 comments:
A little context for our lady in the painting, I wonder if Manet really did want her.
I've often wondered how artists choose their models and why. Maybe now we know!
Yes, I wonder, now, too, JO! Interesting perspective, Harry, you made me wonder.
A pure-and-simple crapshoot, perhaps? Who can ever know the incidentals until afterwards? Much to think about here.
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