Poems (Jordan)/Fog
FOG
Grey ghost of the Ocean, or specter of Space, Thou dost fling thy damp shroud o'er our eyes,And, by taking the Earth in thy clammy embrace, Interceptest her glance towr'd the skies.Grim monster! which no hand may touch to retain, Though we seem near each other to be;—A lantern close-shuttered the Sun hands the Rain When compelled by thy presence to flee.
Surrounded by heights of unscalable mist, Which our bodies pass easily through,—But only that we may be promptly abyssed In a fathomless cavern of dew!Alone, quite alone, 'mid a hoarse-throated throng, And of objects familiar made strange,Unseen and unseeing we wander along, Hapless pris'ners of uniformed Change!
We seem to be treading the floor of a sea Strewn with wreckage of substances, all,Which we gropingly touch, but, so blinded are we, Ev'ry step seems to threaten our fall!Is't the ghost of that Flood of long ages ago, Haunting thus the whole Earth that it drowned?And, in lieu of the dove, shall the beautiful bow Bring assurance of visible ground?