Gray Fog

    A fog drifts in, the heavy laden¹ 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 longing², 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. BellsAt six o'clock of an autumn dusk With the sky in the west a rusty³ red, The bells of the mission down in the valley Cry out that the day is dead.

    The first star pricks⁴ as sharp as steel —— Why am I suddenly so cold？ Three bells, each with a separate sound Clang in the valley, wearily tolled⁵.

    Bells in Venice, bells at sea, Bells in the valley heavy and slow -There is no place over the crowded world Where I can forget that the days go.