Edna St. Vincent Millay (Эдна Сент-Винсент Миллей)

Eel-Grass

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.

1. Assault
2. Inland
3. To S. M.
4. Tavern
5. Grown-up

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