 | Poems |  |
53
SINGING SHELLS.
Long ago! long ago!
'Twas Orpheus caught a pale-pink shell,
With deep, dim chambers neatly twined,
And pearly lined, and pearly lined,
And blew the wind
In music through its hollow halls,
Till all the Echoes of the shore
Cried out with joy, and sought a shell,
And caught the faintly lingering tones
Of Orpheus' music—low as moans—
And drew them in each tiny cell,
While rosy walls of all the halls
Grew merry then; and quickly fell
A murmurous song from every shell.
'Twas Orpheus caught a pale-pink shell,
With deep, dim chambers neatly twined,
And pearly lined, and pearly lined,
And blew the wind
In music through its hollow halls,
Till all the Echoes of the shore
Cried out with joy, and sought a shell,
And caught the faintly lingering tones
Of Orpheus' music—low as moans—
And drew them in each tiny cell,
While rosy walls of all the halls
Grew merry then; and quickly fell
A murmurous song from every shell.
Long ago! long ago!
'Twas Orpheus tuned the shells to voices;
And all along the pebbled shore
Was music, where was none before,
And now each little one rejoices;
And every shell a tale doth tell
How music came with them to dwell;
And all along the pearled shore,
Though winds do rave and toss the wave,
And bitter spray is on the land,
He guards them well, each little shell,
Who holds the waters in His hand.
So, all along the pearled shore,
'Mid sighing waves, or ocean's roar,
They sing, and sing, forevermore.
'Twas Orpheus tuned the shells to voices;
And all along the pebbled shore
Was music, where was none before,
54
And every shell a tale doth tell
How music came with them to dwell;
And all along the pearled shore,
Though winds do rave and toss the wave,
And bitter spray is on the land,
He guards them well, each little shell,
Who holds the waters in His hand.
So, all along the pearled shore,
'Mid sighing waves, or ocean's roar,
They sing, and sing, forevermore.
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