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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
FOG, by REX GEORGE FULLER
First Line: The fog is white sleep that gropes in from the sea
Last Line: From warm wind with a wave on its knee.
Subject(s): Fog; Haze
First Line: The fog is white sleep that gropes in from the sea
Last Line: From warm wind with a wave on its knee.
Subject(s): Fog; Haze
The fog is white sleep that gropes in from the sea
With sensitive, sinuous fingers and we
Are muffled with sleep we can see.
It gives us a dream with our eyes open wide,
With houses that waver, and men at our side
Who tower and dwindle and glide.
These are soft slurs of light, and gaunt, claw-fingered trees,
And choked sounds from nowhere that puzzle and tease,
And a slow, fumbling, visible breeze.
There are flashes of vision that cloud, like a glass
With a close breath upon it; and curtains that pass
And leave dream-stuff a-wink on the grass.
From above, it is sea-spirit, writhing about
Like a torment of sleep in a nightmare of doubt,
With black serpents that weave in and out.
It is cool, like a ghost; and it idles along
Like some musical ghost who is humming a song
In a hot, fretful, garrulous throng.
The fog is a yawn from a sleepy old sea,
With a wandering tune in a lullaby key
From warm wind with a wave on its knee.
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