CHICKEN-SKIN, delicate, white, <br /> Painted by Carlo Vanloo, <br />Loves in a riot of light, <br /> Roses and vaporous blue; <br /> Hark to the dainty frou-frou! <br />Picture above, if you can, <br /> Eyes that could melt as the dew,— <br />This was the Pompadour’s fan! <br /> <br />See how they rise at the sight, <br /> Thronging the CEil de Boeuf through, <br />Courtiers as butterflies bright, <br /> Beauties that Fragonard drew, <br /> Talon-rouge, falbala, queue, <br />Cardinal, Duke,—to a man, <br /> Eager to sigh or to sue,— <br />This was the Pompadour’s fan! <br /> <br />Ah, but things more than polite <br /> Hung on this toy, voyez-vous! <br />Matters of state and of might, <br /> Things that great ministers do; <br /> Things that, may be, overthrew <br />Those in whose brains they began; <br /> Here was the sign and the cue,— <br />This was the Pompadour’s fan! <br /> <br /> ENVOY <br /> <br />Where are the secrets it knew? <br /> Weavings of plot and of plan? <br />—But where is the Pompadour, too? <br /> This was the Pompadour’s Fan!<br /><br />Austin Henry Dobson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-a-fan/
