All the long day the vapours played <br /> At blindfold in the city streets, <br />Their elfin fingers caught and stayed <br /> The sunbeams, as they wound their sheets <br />Into a filmy barricade <br /> 'Twixt earth and where the sunlight beats. <br /> <br />A vagrant band of mischiefs these, <br /> With wings of grey and cobweb gown; <br />They live along the edge of seas, <br /> And creeping out on foot of down, <br />They chase and frolic, frisk and tease <br /> At blind-man's buff with all the town. <br /> <br />And when at eventide the sun <br /> Breaks with a glory through their grey, <br />The vapour-fairies, one by one, <br />Outspread their wings and float away <br />In clouds of colouring, that run <br /> Wine-like along the rim of day. <br /> <br />Athwart the beauty and the breast <br /> Of purpling airs they twirl and twist, <br />Then float away to some far rest, <br /> Leaving the skies all colour-kiss't-- <br />A glorious and a golden West <br /> That greets the Lifting of the Mist.<br /><br />Emily Pauline Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lifting-of-the-mist/
