Explore "Low-Tide" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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!