57 Coming Down to Run in Dark and Fog In the near dark two runners stagger in Out of the coiling fog along the shore. Another lurches in, and then two more. But nobody else here after I begin. Once I am startled, when the fog-swirls thin, By a movement I glimpse behind me on the shore. That’s the moon’s hard reflection. Airliner’s roar Joins wave-roar for one huge roar coming in Straight after me; and then a hooded form Comes by with darkness where the face should show; It’s a runner, though. Small light, with sea below Is the cliff-house, fog-faint, the one a storm Last year brought down in part, to crash and splinter, What’s left now pushing into one more winter. 111