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 St. 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.