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.
The speaker makes a personal confession: no matter what she might claim, her truest affection belongs to a handful of damp, ordinary coastal details. She loves rain flattening the bay, eel-grass in the cove, jingle-shells bleaching at the tide-line, and the faint trace of higher tides along the…
Read the full summary