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FOG.
169
While she breathes, lives one who
(Stand they pure or sin-defiled)
But the child
Whom she crooned to sleep and rocked upon her knees.
FOG.
LIGHT silken curtain, colorless and soft,
Dreamlike before me floating ! what abides
Behind thy pearly veil’s
Opaque, mysterious woof ?
Where sleek red kine, and dappled, crunch day long
Thick, luscious blades and purple clover-heads,
Nigh me I still can mark
Cool fields of beaded grass.
No more ; for on the rim of the globed world
I seem to stand and stare at nothingness.
But songs of unseen birds
And tranquil roll of waves
Bring sweet assurance of continuous life
Beyond this silvery cloud. Fantastic dreams,
Of tissue subtler still
Than the wreathed fog, arise,
