This poem is taken from PN Review 17, Volume 7 Number 3, January - February 1981.
A Young Boy on a Family HolidayMy father says we can't get lost ;
We just keep north along the coast;
Why do you children walk so slow?
But now the sky has turned dark grey;
It isn't warm enough to bathe;
The wind is strong; the breakers seethe
Against those rocks so close beneath
This slippery, dangerous cliff-path.
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