The Mist

Carl Sandburg

1878 to 1967

Poem Image

I am the mist, the impalpable mist, 
Back of the thing you seek 
My arms are long,
Long as the reach of time and space 

Some toil and toil, believing,
Looking now and again on my face,
Catching a vital, olden glory 

But no one passes me, 
I tangle and snare them all 
I am the cause of the Sphinx, 
The voiceless, baffled, patient Sphinx 

I was at the first of things, 
I will be at the last 
        I am the primal mist 
       And no man passes me,
       My long impalpable arms 
       Bar them all