In “The Fog,” W. H. Davies shows how quickly the familiar world can turn strange. The thickening fog blinds the speaker, distorts sizes, grips his throat, and leaves him unable to judge distance or space. Street lamps and car lights become indistinguishable from stars, so the ordinary street feels unmoored. The mood is claustrophobic and almost hallucinatory—less about weather than about losing certainty.
Then a stranger appears in the dark. When the speaker asks the way, the man tells him to follow and taps the stones ahead as he goes. Only in the final line do we learn he is blind. In a world where sight is useless, his careful, trusting knowledge of the street is more reliable than the speaker’s panicked eyes. The ending is quiet and surprising: fear gives way to childlike dependence, and the person who cannot see becomes the one who can lead.