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 .
Sara Trevor Teasdale
64 PORTFOLIO MAGAZINE