The white fog creeps from the cold sea over the city,
Over the pale grey tumbled towers,-
And settles among the roofs, the pale grey walls.
Along damp sinuous streets it crawls,
Curls like a dream among the motionless trees
And seems to freeze.
The fog slips ghostlike into a thousand rooms,
Whirls over sleeping faces,
Spins in an atomy dance round misty street lamps;
And blows in cloudy waves over open spaces . . .
And one from his high window, looking down,
Peers at the cloud-white town,
And thinks its island towers are like a dream . . .
It seems an enormous sleeper, within whose brain
Laborious shadows revolve and break and gleam.
The House Of Dust: Part 01: 08: The White Fog Creeps From The Cold Sea Over The City
Conrad Potter Aiken
(1)
Poem topics: city, cloud, dance, sea, town, brain, cold, street, high, open, window, island, break, dream, fog, white, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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