I just remembered from whence that question (in the previous post) came:
When the flush of a newborn sun fell first on Eden’s green and gold,
Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched with a stick in the mold;
And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart,
Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves: “It’s pretty, but is it Art?”
–Rudyard Kipling, “The Conundrum of the Workshops”
You can read the whole poem at the link.