New Bedford.(Brief Article)(Poem)

 
NEW BEDFORD 
 
   Down cobbled streets that still seem slippery 
   With whale oil to deserted wharves and docks 
   In this backwater port on Buzzards Bay, 
   Blustery with white caps, sporadic gulls 
   Screaming their hunger in the biting wind; 
   Boreas blasting on your back, chilled to bone, 
   You read the black edged names, stone cenotaphs 
   Of local Jonahs swallowed by the waves 
   In the seamen's ...