My Madonna by Robert W. Service — Read

I haled me a woman from the street, / Shameless, but, oh, so fair!

I bade her sit in the model's seat, / And I painted her sitting there.

I hid all trace of her heart unclean; / I painted a babe at her breast; / I painted her as she might have been / If the Worst had been the Best.

She laughed at my picture, and went away.

Then came, with a knowing nod, / A connoisseur, and I heard him say: / " 'Tis Mary, the Mother of God."

So I painted a halo round her hair, / And I sold her, and took my fee, / And she hangs in the church of Saint Hilaire, / Where you and all may see.