THE Thames nocturne of blue and gold
 Changed to a Harmony in grey:
 A barge with ochre-coloured hay
 Dropt from the wharf: and chill and cold

 The yellow fog came creeping down
 The bridges, till the houses' walls
 Seemed changed to shadows, and S. Paul's
 Loomed like a bubble o'er the town.

 Then suddenly arose the clang
 Of waking life; the streets were stirred
 With country waggons: and a bird
 Flew to the glistening roofs and sang.

 But one pale woman all alone,
 The daylight kissing her wan hair,
 Loitered beneath the gas lamps' flare,
 With lips of flame and heart of stone.