Exhibition Poem
“Lock Me Up” by Irma Fallon, Harn Docent
Lock me up in the Harn and don’t set me free,
With Monet and his friends, that’s where I’ll be,
Strolling the gardens, along the French shore,
Lying in oat fields with poppies galore.
I’ll study the paintings, all night and all day,
They’ll be my companions, from them I’ll ne’er stray,
I’ll know every line, every form, every shape,
Lock me up in the Harn, don’t let me escape.
Giverny will allure me, and in that plein air,
I’ll smell Frieseke’s lillies, have tea in his chair,
I’ll wade in the stream ‘neath the poplars of Perry,
Lock me up in the Harn, how jolly, how merry.
The guards will ne’er see me, I’ll climb right through the paint
of Robinson’s scaffolding, I have no restraint,
I’ll swim in the gorge at Appledore cliffs,
Lock me up in the Harn, no buts, ands or ifs.
I’ll retreat in the country, in Shinnecock hills,
With Metcalf, I’ll freeze in Thawing Brook chills,
I’ll stroll by the Chestnut in Washington Square,
Bewitched by the Willows with Prendergast near.
For the Comfort of Home, I’ll strip and be nude,
Like Frieseke’s, Marcelle, now don’t think me rude,
Would I ever undress in front of Vonnoh?
I promise you Rebecca, the answer is NO!
So please lock me up, for three months or more,
I’ll learn so much art, for my small brain to store,
I’ll be the best docent that you ever had,
The Harn will be happy, the visitors glad.
