On Nantucket Sound

Do you recall the morning on Nantucket Sound when white wind whipped our sails against the August sun, when we stood tanned and laughing, loving the sea, and bound for any port or none? Do you recall that out from the tiny towns which lay along the coast, came salty strangers seeking cod, tanned and laughing as we, plundering the bay with net and fishing rod? Do you recall that when the west waxed pink again homeward we turned the tiller, and as we came around with sails set full for shore, lights flashed from a world forgotten on Nantucket Sound