FOG ON PLEASANT BAY

The fog comes in on Pleasant Bay,
And creeps among the rocks.
It gently soothes the rose's bloom,
And smothers all the docks,

It quiets down the screaming gulls,
And semen as they toil.
A reminder to the sailing folk,
To fill their lamps with oil.

the moaning of the lighthouse horn,
And the light so dimly seen.
Remind us of our time at sea,
And the places we have been.

The fog flees on a freshening breeze,
And the stars shine ever bright.
The lighthouse welcomes sailors home,
In the dark of the stilly night.

Ian Adrian Millar