Stealthily in the darkness,
On slippered,silent feet,
A fog stole in from seaward
And spread her mystic sheet.
Made of each gleaming ball of light
A phosphorescent gem,
That might festoon the crescent moon
In a glowing diadem.
She wrapped the leaves of sleeping trees
In wedding veils of white----
Then soaring hign into the sky,
Sped onward through the night.
But morning guessed that she had passed,
For glistening far and near,
The fog had left on each fair thing
The traces of a tear.