When All Is Foggy

Peering into the mists of gray

That shroud the surface of the bay,

Nothing I see except a veil

Of fog surrounding every sail.

Then suddenly against the cape

A vast and silent form takes shape,                                  
A great ship lies against the shore
Where nothing has appeared before.
He who sees a truth must often gaze
Into a fog for many days;
It may seem very sure to him
Nothing is there but mist clouds dim.
Then, suddenly, his eyes will see
A shape where nothing used to be.
Discoveries are missed each day
By men who turn so quick away.


By Clarence Edward Flynn