MY life is like a stroll upon the beach, As near the ocean's edge as I can go; My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'er-reach, Sometimes I stay to let them overflow. My sole employment is, and scrupulous care, To place my gains beyond the reach of tides, -- Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, Which Ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore: They scorn the strand who sail upon the sea; Yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er Is deeper known upon the strand to me. The middle sea contains no crimson dulse, Its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view; Along the shore my hand is on its pulse, And I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DELICACIES by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE LAST REDOUBT by ALFRED AUSTIN ODE ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB by THOMAS GRAY THE RUSH OF THE OREGON by ARTHUR GUITERMAN A SOLILOQUY; OCCASIONED BY THE CHIRPING OF A GRASSHOPPER by WALTER HARTE A FOREIGN RULER by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 47. BROKEN MUSIC by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI HYMN OF PAN by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 7. MIDSUMMER by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |