One gas-jet glimmering there alone;
Above, all fog; below, all inky flood;
For subject—it had none.
One showed blue chaos flecked with falling gold.
Like Danaë's tower in dark;
A painter's splash-board might more meaning hold
Than this æsthetic lark.
And one, a phantom form with limbs most lank,
Adumbrated in ink and soot;
The Genius of Smudge, with spectral shank