The Tutelage

In the coiled shell sounds Ocean’s distant roar, Oft to our listening hearts come heavenly strains;— Men say, “That was the blood in our own veins, And this,—but the echo of our hope; no more.” And yet, the murmuring sea exists, which bore That frail creation o’er its watery plains; And on Time’s sands full many a shell remains Tossed by Eternity upon its shore. Its tongue our hope from Nature’s self has caught. Matter nor force is lost as æons roll. And mind?—Love life conserves and death abates,— Through the long ages this has nature taught. Under the stars she plights the wistful soul: “Life ruled by Love nor dies nor dissipates.”

Collection: 
English
Robert Mowry Bell

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