The Portrait of Dorian Gray

The Portrait of Dorian Gray

“I won't send it anywhere"—said Basil
Lord Henry elevated his eyebrows—in amazement

Through the thin blue—wreaths of smoke
He tossed his head back—in that odd way

That made Lord Henry—quixotic like at Oxford
But Basil was seriousness—his lightness gone

"No, I don’t want people—to see Dorian
The Grosvenor would only—make things worse”

“But, my dear”—smiled Lord Henry
“How long can you keep—this Narcissus to yourself?”

“This is really the only place"—Basil said to Henry
"I don't think I’ll let—anyone see this portrait.”

“That would be dreadful”—said Lord Henry
"It’s your best work, Basil—your best painting”

“The Academy is too large—and too vulgar.”
Basil looked again at—the youth’s portrait

“Whenever he comes—to pose for me”
He said languidly—“it becomes more alive”

"Mr. Dorian Gray—is in the studio, sir"

The butler said—coming into the garden

"You simply must—introduce me now"
Lord Henry said—to Basil knowingly

The painter turned—to his servant
Who was standing—blinking in the light

"Ask Mr. Gray to wait, Parker—I’ll be there”
The man bowed—and went out the garden

Then looking at Lord Henry—Basil said
"Dorian Gray is my dearest friend, Henry”

"He’s got a simple—and beautiful nature
Don't spoil him—Don't try to influence him”

“We both know, Henry—about your usual
Jaded influence—on young men”

"The world is wide, Henry—after all
You have many marvelous—young friends”

“Don't take away from me—this one person
Who gives me—whatever charm life possesses”

Basil spoke very slowly—his words oozing
Out as if slowly—squeezing a tube of paint

"What nonsense, my dear!"—Lord Henry said
Smiling and taking Hallward—by the arm

Leading him into—the studio where young

Dorian Gray was undressing—for the portrait

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