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Robert Laurence Binyon - Fog
Work rating: Low

Magically awakened to a strange, brown night
 The streets lie cold. A hush of heavy gloom
 Dulls the noise of the wheels to a murmur dead:
 Near and sudden the passing figures loom;
 And out of darkness steep on startled sight
 The topless walls in apparition emerge.
 Nothing revealing but their own thin flames,
 The rayless lamps burn faint and bleared and red:
 Link--boys` cries, and the shuffle of horses led,
 Pierce the thick air; and like a distant dirge,
 Melancholy horns wail from the shrouded Thames.
 Long the blind morning hooded the dumb town;
 Till lo! in an instant winds arose, and the air
 Lifted: at once, from a cold and spectral sky
 Appears the sun, and laughs in mockery down
 On groping travellers far from where they deem,
 In unconjectured roads; the dwindled stream
 Of traffic in slow confusion crawling by:
 The baffled hive of helpless man laid bare.
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