No matter what I say,
All that I really love
Is the rain that flattens on the bay,
And the eel-grass in the cove;
The jingle-shells that lie and bleach
At the tide-line, and the trace
Of higher tides along the beach:
Nothing in this place.

Added: on October 15th, 2004 at 11:00 AM | Viewed: 2637 times | Comments (2)

Poet: Edna St. Vincent Millay
Poem: Eel-Grass

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