Sara Teasdale: Gray Fog

Gray Fog

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.