The half-English, half-First Nation Canadian translated the Romantic tradition into a beguilingly low key in this reflection on a coastal scene
Low Tide at St Andrews
(New Brunswick)
The long red flats stretch open to the sky,
Breathing their moisture on the August air.
The seaweeds cling with flesh-like fingers where
The rocks give shelter that the sands deny;
And wrapped in all her summer harmonies
St Andrews sleeps beside her sleeping seas.
