Lady Agnew of Lochnaw
sits for her portrait

"This morning I wear lilac,
tonight I will wear silk
of deepest black and, at my neck,
my pearls, like rainbow milk.
Euphemia, my lady's maid,
is warming them for me
beneath her blouse and next her skin,
where nobody can see.
It wouldn't be the thing, you know,
for a servant girl like Pheemy
to go about in Lochnaw House
with pearls outside her peeny.
But, once the lassie's warmed them up
they have a bonny glow
and, resting on my snowy breast,
they'll make a lovely show.
Oh, forgive me, Mr Sargent,
I fear I made you blush."
The artist tucked his head away
and gave her eyes a brush
of kiss-soft kohl and just a hint
of darker, moonlight grey.
His oil paint and squirrel hair
said all there was to say.
He paid no heed to silly talk
of pearls upon her breast,
he simply painted what he saw,
the way that he knew best.
He painted smoulders in her eyes
and kisses in her hair
and, underneath her gown of silk,
he painted her quite bare.

© Andrew Nicoll