No lame excuses can gloss over <br />Barge-tar clotted at the tide-line, the wrecked pier. <br />I should have known better. <br /> <br />Fifteen years between me and the bay <br />Profited memory, but did away with the old scenery <br />And patched this shoddy <br /> <br />Makeshift of a view to quit <br />My promise of an idyll. The blue's worn out: <br />It's a ****rd estate, <br /> <br />Inimical now. The great green rock <br />We gave good use as ship and house is black <br />With tarry muck <br /> <br />And periwinkles, shrunk to common <br />Size. The cries of scavenging gulls sound thin <br />In the traffic of planes <br /> <br />From Logan Airport opposite. <br />Gulls circle gray under shadow of a steelier flight. <br />Loss cancels profit. <br /> <br />Unless you do this tawdry harbor <br />A service and ignore it, I go a liar <br />Gilding what's eyesore, <br /> <br />Or must take loophole and blame time <br />For the rock's dwarfed lump, for the drabbled scum, <br />For a churlish welcome.<br /><br />Sylvia Plath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/green-rock-winthrop-bay/
