FROM THE POETRY SHELF1920
White Fog
by Sara Teasdale
Heaven-invading hills are drowned
In wide moving waves of mist,
Phlox before my door are wound
In dripping wreaths of amethyst.
Ten feet away the solid earth
Changes into melting cloud,
There is a hush of pain and mirth,
No bird has heart to speak aloud.
Here in a world without a sky,
Without the ground, without the sea,
The one unchanging thing is I,
Myself remains to comfort me.
Collection and author context
The linked Project Gutenberg text places this poem in Flame and Shadow (1920). Teasdale’s biography and the linked Academy of American Poets and Poetry Foundation profiles provide further context for her lyric poetry and published collections.
Source text: Flame and Shadow (1920) · Project Gutenberg. Further reading: all poems by Sara Teasdale · Academy of American Poets: Sara Teasdale · Poetry Foundation: Sara Teasdale.