I found you on the sandy shore,
Fluted and delicate and thin,
And knew that lately you had been
Lapped by the tide that, rushing in,
Drew out again to ocean-well
Leaving you desolate, sea-shell!
I found you there so sweetly wrought,
So fine, so exquisitely made,
Resting upon the grains of sand
Where late the tumbling waves had played;
The rosy colour blushing through
Your skin, as it in life might do.
I found you by your lord bereft,
Lonely upon the furrowed sand;
How, shall I take you for my own
And hold you close within my hand?
The tide turns and he comes apace --
I fling you back to his embrace!
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 31 October 1936
See also.
