"Blurr'd by the creeping mist, for all abroad,/ Beneath a moon unseen albeit at full,/ The white mist, like a face-cloth to the face,/ Clung to the dead earth, and the land was still./ For hither had she fled, her cause of flight" (Tennyson 269). ... There is no movement, no noise. ...

• Word Count: 923
• Approx Pages: 4
• Grade Level: High School