A queer thing about those waters: there are no
Birds there, or hardly any.
I did not miss them, I do not remember
Missing them, or thinking it uncanny.
The beach so-called was a blinding splinter of limestone,
A quarry outraged by hulls.
We took pleasure in that: the emptiness, the hardness
These lines show us the authors uncertainty. While the writer was looking over the water, he did not notice the absence of the birds. However, looking back, he finds it mysterious why they were not there.
Across the Bay