The Fog
Lola Ridge
Out of the lamp-bestarred and clouded dusk— Snaring, illuding, concealing, Magically conjuring— Turning to fairy-coaches Beetle-backed limousines Scampering under the great Arch— Making a decoy of blue overalls And mystery of a scarlet shawl— Indolently— Knowing no impediment of its sure advance— Descends the fog.
