Model's Protest

Yes, I can feel them rip and tear— The veils I usually wear About my soul. When you intrude One certainly is in the nude! Of no avail, plans to defy The glances from your mystic eye; I even wore an ermine cape A sort of armor meant to drape Some nonchalance, some steel as well About my inner self; but hell! It might as well be gossamer. No elegance in Arctic fur Serves to distract that probing orb: Brushes bewitched and trained absorb Your every thought, and place it there Upon the canvas, in the glare Of every sun. DO leave with me Just one small idiosyncrasy!