XI. SHELLS.

Fairies all, whoever ran Pell-mell from smoke-witted man, Scared from haunted well and tree Fairy mermaidens to be, Colonists of fairy sea; Empire found, and perils o’er, Soon ye peeped out on the shore, Frolic-bold as heretofore; Village green and woodland spells Lightly changed for shells O, shells! Your sea besoms twice a day Swish, and swirl, and hissing spray, Brush all mortal taint away. Twice a day the saucy waves, Heads bent low, your merry slaves, Tumble in of shells a store From the sea-king’s palace floor. On a day remembered well, Never butterfly befell Brighter bursting from his cell, Picked we the first fairy shell. Time his hinge had backward swung, Youth and Age together sprung In a world where all was young. Age was young and Youth as old, Age and Youth, two children bold, Caught old Time with potent spells, Magic words of shells O, shells! Shells—the very air did seem Opening into some bright dream, And an unseen gladness swept All around us as we stept. Miles of hope before us lay, Golden, glistening sheets of day, With a sea-charm washed alway, Fairy-sprinkled! who could tell? Every yard might give its shell; Little Cockles’ pearly sheen, Chariot fit for fairy queen, Pectens, dipped in colours won From the rays slipped off the sun In the waves, when day is done. Here a ripple in and out Mocking whirls the Cones about, Brings them to our fingers, then Laughs, and swings them off again. There a dark line softly lies Rich in promise ’neath the skies; Happy he foredoomed to burst On that fairy treasure first, Ere assailed by foot accurst, Or the jealous, tricksy sea Rushing catch him to the knee, And with slow malicious glee Gently suck it back; ah me! Shells O, shells! the slanted hail, Thunder-driven, blind, and pale, Beat on rovers bent, subdued, Each apart in solitude, Nursing his own woeful mood. Lo! a shell bank—at the cry Sunshine flashed along the sky, Reckless-bright each sunny eye Glistened, on the spoil they fly, Cockles, Mactras, Artemis, Pectens, unknown shapes of bliss, Turritella, Tellens frail, Orphans, delicate and pale, Newly risen from the sea Peerless Venus Chione. Such a ring was never seen Glancing coy on minstrel’s een In the sweetest, shyest gloom Of the young world’s maiden bloom, Ere the tender dew had died Hopeless, on the mountain-side, And away the fairies hied. Where the fairies hied would’st know? To the printless margin go, Where sea besoms twice a day Swish, and swirl, and hissing spray, Purge all mortal taint away, There the fairy children play.