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.

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Other poems of ST. VINCENT MILLAY (168)

Comments (1)

How sweet, loving only what is worthy, in nature.