Sheep in Fog by Slyvia Plath

The hills step off into whiteness
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them


The train leaves a line of breath
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,

Hooves, dolorous bells---------
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,

A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.

They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water