 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
55
LXXII
In my left hand I held a shell,All rosy-lipp'd and pearly red;
I laid it by his lowly bed,
For he did love so passing well
The grand songs of his solemn sea.
O shell! sing well, wild, with a will,
When storms blow loud and birds be still,
The wildest sea-song known to thee!
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |