Into this little bay
Where a city sunk six centuries ago
We turned half an hour since
In a little boat like yours
We saw the white shingle
Walled by red cliffs, sunned ochre
Unspoilt even by a jetty;
We leapt from the beached boat and
With sandals still wet, found this nick in the cliff
Under an old outgrowing pine casting
A shadow on the hard white pebbles
Where we make our camp
Staking out space with a mosaic of mats
On the empty arc of the shore.
We did this not to restrict ourselves to
The space we needed to live
But to have a point from which to enjoy it all
A desert island
Appearing through the magic of parting
From the crowded village
In a little boat like yours
Little boats like yours point their prows
Round the headland, towards this beach,
Like an invading fleet unresisted
Yet each little boat like yours threatens
What we came for
In a little boat like yours,
To relax in private possession of public goods
The open sky,
Free sea
And wide embracing shore
Yet we all came alike in little boats
We shall all go alike in little boats
At the day’s end,
So why not be friends?