Here clove the keels of centuries ago <br />Where now unvisited the flats lie bare. <br />Here seethed the sweep of journeying waters, where <br />No more the tumbling floods of Fundy flow, <br />And only in the samphire pipes creep slow <br />The salty currents of the sap. The air <br />Hums desolately with wings that seaward fare, <br />Over the lonely reaches beating low. <br /> <br />The wastes of hard and meagre weeds are thronged <br />With murmurs of a past that time has wronged; <br />And ghosts of many an ancient memory <br />Dwell by the brackish pools and ditches blind, <br />In these low-lying pastures of the wind, <br />These marshes pale and meadows by the sea.<br /><br />Sir Charles GD Roberts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-salt-flats-2/
