Are you a wizard? Practiced in black art?
For art, a thing sublime, you would create
With words, an utterance, your only part:
No palate, brush or paint to mediate.
An ordinary object you espy
And art declare it solemnly to be.
A clever trick to turn a low thing high
By means of nothing more than your decree.
Alas, no magic powers you possess;
So, miserably your incantations fail.
But self-deceived you boldly claim success
And offer the mundane for all to hail.
Your ready-mades the critics may applaud;
Art lovers call your hocus-pocus fraud.
