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.   

“Gray Fog” by Sarah Teasdale