I came in sight of Osea Island
Walking the turfed sea-wall;
To right mud-banks chirped like a cricket,
To left I heard sedge-warblers call.

I never went to Osea Island,
Perhaps I never shall
More than those crabs with sun-bleached bodies
That through the grey sea-purslane crawl.

I took the road to Osea Island
Soft to my feet and green
As any road that through a wood-ride
Vivid with summer grass is seen.

Before I came to Osea Island
The seaweed on the road
Rose in the tide that from the mud-flats
Flowed through culverts and overflowed.

Why do I think of Osea Island?
Perhaps I am afraid
Some foaming tide may overtake me
Walking a blossom-dropping glade.