Poetry of Kansas

The Fog

The gray world, the gray world,
    That clouds the face of Spring,
That clothes in nebulous white shrouds
    Each near, familiar thing__
Even the river's voice sounds strange,
    Sullenly murmuring.
No warm light finds the gray world,
    Of filmy mists and spray;
The clinging beauty of the fog
    Has shut the hills away;
God's living sun has died and left
    This lovely wraith of Day.
The gray world, the ghost world,__
    The winds lie as they list,
While Spring comes shyly veiled in gray
    To keep her April tryst.
0 you who died before this day,
    What loveliness you missed!

__Ester M. (Clark) Hill.


The Call of Kansas and Other Poems
Esther M. (Clark) Hill
(Cedar Rapids: Torch Press. __)
Page 61

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November 5, 2002 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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