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- Fog
- Robert Hillyer
- Where does the sea end and the sky begin?
- We sink in blue for which there is no word.
- Two sails, fog-coloured, loiter on the thin
- Mirage of ocean.
- There is no sound of wind, nor wave, nor bird,
- Nor any motion.
- Except the shifting mists that turn and lift,
- Showing behind the two limp sails a third,
- Then blotting it again.
- A gust, a spattering of rain,
- The lazy water breaks in nervous rings.
- Somewhere a bleak bell buoy sings,
- Muffled at first, then clear,
- Its wet, grey monotone.
- The dead are here.
- We are not quite alone.
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