As with the other, dimpled, white,
She held the slender boughs aside,
While through the leaves the yellow light
Like golden water seemed to glide,
And broke in ripples on her neck, 45
And played like fire around her hat,
And slid adown her form to fleck
The moss-grown rock on which I sat.
She standing rapt in sweet surprise,
And seeming doubtful if to turn; 50