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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=413338" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Shell</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O little, whisp'ring, murm'ring shell, say cans't thou tell to me<br>Good news of any stately ship that sails upon the sea?<br>I press my ear, O little shell, against thy rosy lips;<br>Cans't tell me tales of those who go down to the sea in ships?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What, not a word? Ah hearken, shell, I've shut the cottage door;<br>There's scarce a sound to drown thy voice, so silent is the moor,<br>A bell may tinkle far away upon its purple rise;<br>A bee may buz among the heath--a lavrock cleave the skies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But if you only breathe the name I name upon my knees,<br>Ah, surely I should catch the word above such sounds as these.<br>And Grannie's needles click no more, the ball of yarn is done,<br>And she's asleep outside the door where shines the merry sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One night while Grannie slept, I dreamed he came across the moor,<br>And stood, so handsome, brown and tall, beside the open door:<br>I thought I turned to pick a rose that by the sill had blown,<br>(He liked a rose) and when I looked, O shell, I was alone!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Across the moor there dwells a wife; she spaed my fortune true,<br>And said I'd plight my troth with one who ware a jacket blue;<br>That morn before my Grannie woke, just when the lapwing stirred,<br>I sped across the misty rise and sought the old wife's word.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With her it was the milking time, and while she milk'd the goat,<br>I ask'd her then to spae my dream, my heart was in my throat--<br>But that was just because the way had been so steep and long,<br>And not because I had the fear that anything was wrong.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ye'll meet, ye'll meet,' was all she said; 'Ye'll meet when it is mirk.'<br>I gave her tippence that I meant for Sabbath-day and kirk;<br>And then I hastened back again; it seemed that never sure<br>The happy sun delay'd so long to gild the purple moor.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That's six months back, and every night I sit beside the door,<br>And while I knit I keep my gaze upon the mirky moor;<br>I keep old Collie by my side--he's sure to spring and bark,<br>When Ronald comes across the moor to meet me in the dark.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I _know_ the old wife spaed me true, for did she not fore-tell<br>I'd break a ring with Ronald Grey beside the Hidden Well?<br>It came to pass at shearing-time, before he went to sea<br>(We're nighbours' bairns) how _could_ she know that Ronald cared<br>for me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So night by night I watch for him--by day I sing and work,<br>And try to never mind the latch--he's coming in the dark;<br>Yet as the days and weeks and months go slipping slowly thro',<br>I wonder if the wise old wife has spaed my fortune true!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, not a word about his ship? Well, well, I'll lay thee by.<br>I see a heron from the marsh go sailing in the sky,<br>The purple moor is like a dream, a star is twinkling clear--<br>Perhaps the meeting that she spaed is drawing very near!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Isabella+Valancy+Crawford">Isabella Valancy Crawford</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=413338" data-title="The Shell de Isabella Valancy Crawford" data-description="O little, whisp'ring, murm'ring shell, say cans't thou tell to me
Good news of any stately ship that sails upon the sea?
I press my ear, O little shell, against thy rosy lips;
Cans't tell me tales of those who go down to the sea in ships?

What, n..."></div>
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