National Poetry Month

Eel-Grass

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

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.

Photo: NOAA