These wet rocks where the tide has been,
Barnacled white and weeded brown
And slimed beneath to a beautiful green,
These wet rocks where the tide went down
Will show again when the tide is high
Faint and perilous, far from shore,
No place to dream, but a place to die,—
The bottom of the sea once more.
There was a child that wandered through
A giant's empty house all day,—
House full of wonderful things and new,
But no fit place for a child to play.
Edna St Vincent Millay
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
More Poems by Edna St Vincent Millay
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on Low-Tide
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Low-Tide here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.