daughter poem

it was a tall young oysterman
at dawn, he said
i loathed you
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
friend, whose smile has come to be
there is no flock, however watched and tended
let me be sad
still thirteen years
had he and i but met
love me at last, or if you will not