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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay’s other poems:
977