THE WANDERER.

Upon a mountain height far from the sea I found a shell, And to my listening ear the lonely thing Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing, Ever a tale of ocean seemed to tell. How came the shell upon that mountain height? Ah, who can say? Whether there dropped by some too careless hand Or whether there cast when Ocean left the Land Ere the Eternal had ordained the Day. Strange, was it not? Far from its native deep One song it sang,— Sang of the awful mysteries of the tide, Sang of the misty sea, profound and wide,— Ever with echoes of the ocean rang. And, as the shell upon the mountain height Sings of the sea, So do I ever, leagues and leagues away,— So do I ever, wandering where I may— Sing, O my home! sing, O my home, of thee! —Eugene Field.