Where the cragged slope was green,
While I stood back that I might pencil it
With her amid the scene;
Till it gloomed and rained;
But I kept on, despite the drifting wet
That fell and stained
My draught, leaving for curious quizzings yet
The blots engrained.
And thus I drew her there alone,
Seated amid the gauze
Of moisture, hooded, only her outline shown,
With rainfall marked across.
-- Soon passed our stay;
Yet her rainy form is the Genius still of the spot,
Though the place now knows her no more, and has known her not
Ever since that day.
From an old note.