Miranda and I were at sport with a shell, Twisted and pink, by an ocean blue. "Hark!" said I, "and its lips shall tell, Murmuring low, of my love to you." "Yes," she answered, with dimpling eyes, "Empty sound is your love to me, Vain as a hollow shell that lies Tossed by the waves of a fickle sea." "Nay," I urged, as I held my ground, "None of the powers in heaven above Could tear from that shell its murmuring sound, Or wrench from my heart its constant love." More I said, and I said it well, But better far at the end spake she: "Fie, my lad, on this proxy shell! Speak the message yourself to me!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...O DREAMS, O DESTINATIONS by CECIL DAY LEWIS MY HAPPINESS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE COLOR SERGEANT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SHE WEEPS OVER RAHOON by JAMES JOYCE EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IPPOLIT KONOVALOFF by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |