THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A LITTLE SHELL AT COVE ROCK.
Delicate, fragile, tiny shell,
Thou hast a wondrous tale to tell.
I find thee here on the ocean strand;
The billows have borne thee safe to land.
Yet those billows have proved the proud ship's grave,
And have mocked the power of man to save,
As its shattered fragments, far and wide,
Were strewn on the shore by the surging tide.
But thou art here, and all unharmed!
Say, how hast thou its fury charmed,
That its mighty waves, on their foaming breast,
Should bear thee safe to a place of rest?
The rock rears high his haughty form,
And challenges proud the ocean storm;
And he tosses the wild waves raging back,
As his challenge provokes their fierce attack.
But again, and again, and again they come,
And vainly the rock resists its doom;
The waves are mighty, and know their might.
"Never have we been vanquished in fight!
We kiss the sands of the yielding shore,
We rend the rock in his pride of power:
Be it soon, be it late, thy fate is sealed;
Be it soon, be it late, thou shalt surely yield!"
And it yields at last: with a headlong leap
It buries its shame in the foaming deep.
