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 /> 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 George Douglas Roberts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-salt-flats/
