South Beach on Plum Island.
“What if the earth knows longing and regret,
And no one’s heard a whisper of it yet?
Why is the earth without an intimate?
These cursive lines, in which the ebbing tide
Would hint at little secrets to confide,
Denote a frilled coquette and not a bride.’’
From “On the Strand at Plum Island’’ {Mass.}, by Alfred Nicol
