Silent, With Hands Crost Meekly On His Breast, Long Time, With Keen And Meditative Eye, Stood The Old Painter Of Siena By A Canvas, Whose Sign Manual Him Confest. His Head Droopt Low, His Eye Ceased From Its Quest, As Tears Filled Full The Fountains Long Since Dry; And From His Lips There Broke The Haunting Cry: "May God Forgive Me - I Did Not My Best!"