Ina Coolbrith

1841 – 1928 / Nauvoo, Illinois

The Sea-Shell

'AND love will stay, a summer's day!'
A long wave rippled up the strand,
She flashed a white hand through the spray
And plucked a sea-shell from the sand;
And laughed — ' O doubting heart, have peace!
When faith of mine shall fail to thee
This fond, remembering shell will cease
To sing its love, the sea.'

Ah, well! sweet summer 's past and gone, —
And love, perchance, shuns wintry weather,
And so the pretty dears are flown
On lightsome, careless wings together.
I smile: this little pearly-lined,
Pink-veined shell she gave to me,
With foolish, faithful lips to find
Still sing its love, the sea.
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