Foggy Day

Today is a foggy day both physically and metaphorically. A white mist lies across the land and across my mind. The one across my mind is a result of a stinking cold, a very upset stomach, and some powerful drugs. As a result I am not feeling lucid enough to write a long post. So I give you a foggy poem. As I recall this was given to us as examples of personification and alliteration when learning poetry criticism in school. Stay well clear of cruel, hungry foam. Instead pour yourself a beer and marvel at that cool and thirsty foam winking merrily at you from the top of the welcoming glass 🙂 Now, I must go and call those cattle home!

The Sands of Dee

Charles Kingsley (1819–1875)

‘O MARY, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home
Across the sands of Dee;’
The western wind was wild and dank with foam,
And all alone went she.

The western tide crept up along the sand,
And o’er and o’er the sand,
And round and round the sand,
As far as eye could see.
The rolling mist came down and hid the land:
And never home came she.

‘Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair,
A tress of golden hair,
A drownèd maiden’s hair
Above the nets at sea?
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
Among the stakes of Dee.’

They rowed her in across the rolling foam,
The cruel crawling foam,
The cruel hungry foam,
To her grave beside the sea:
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home
Across the sands of Dee.