Gray Fog

by


A fog drifts in, the heavy laden
Cold white ghost of the sea
One by one the hills go out,
The road and the pepper-tree.
I watch the fog float in at the window
With the whole world gone blind,
Everything, even my longing, drowses,
Even the thoughts in my mind.
I put my head on my hands before me,
There is nothing left to be done or said,
There is nothing to hope for, I am tired,
And heavy as the dead.

0

facebook share button twitter share button reddit share button share on pinterest pinterest


Add Gray Fog to your library.

Return to the Sara Teasdale library , or . . . Read the next poem; Guenevere

© 2022 AmericanLiterature.com