| The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, | 15 |
| The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes | |
| Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, | |
| Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, | |
| Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, | |
| Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, | 20 |
| And seeing that it was a soft October night, | |
| Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. |
from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot
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