Yes; it was long ago, —
Deep in a storm-rent cleft; I remember it well.
For the fiery glow of eve had past
From billow and rock; and afar the last
Of the broad-wing'd sea-gulls flew;
The cold light glittered from crest to crest,
From the sand to the sail, that onward prest,
Rising and falling ne'er at rest
Till at length 'twas lost to view.
'Twas then as I rose and turned that I found this shell, Long ago!
Long had I sat and listened
To the magic song of the sea;
E'en when the glad sun glistened
The music shared not his glee;
Now darkly and coldly the ripple broke,
And sadly and sweetly the moon awoke
In a halo of melody.
There it lies; —
There in a heap of stone-gather'd stones and weed
Long ago the foam-spots lay on it wet,
'Tis dusty now, but around it yet
They linger, those songs of the sea —
And when I put the shell to my ear
In the pale, pink windings I yet can hear,
Dim and distant, now loud and clear,
That sad, strange melody
One day when the shell shall crumble the song shall be freed
But it never dies.