Sara Teasdale — White Fog

Heaven-invading hills are drowned        &nbsp In wide moving waves of mist, Phlox before my door are wound        &nbsp In dripping wreaths of amethyst. Ten feet away the solid earth        &nbsp Changes into melting cloud, There is a hush of pain and mirth,        &nbsp No bird has heart to speak aloud. Here in a world without a sky,        &nbsp Without the ground, without the sea, The one unchanging thing is I,        &nbsp Myself remains to comfort me.