Dora Sigerson Shorter (Дора Сигерсон Шортер)
The Scallop Shell
A scallop shell, loosed by the lifting tide, Had left a friendly shore, the seas to brave; Its lips of pink and snowy hollow shone Pure in the sun, a pearl upon the wave. It gleamed and passed—you burdened it with love, With sweet long futures, new and dreamy days: And named for me—because I held your hopes. I bid you hush—not meriting your praise. I pointed, where your vessel came to shore, Wrecked where the tiny breakers rose and fell; And bid your voyagers not put to sea So fail a craft as this poor scallop shell.
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