Mollusk poems are not my style.
None of them are in my file.
They just seem to raise my bile.
I don't like 'em!
               Arthur Weil
>
> From: Antonetta Stanzione <[log in to unmask]>
> Date: 2003/10/05 Sun PM 08:52:15 EDT
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: A poem I would like to share
>
>                               Seashell Murmurs
>
>           The hollow seashell which for years hath stood
>               On dusty shelves, when held against the ear
>               Proclaims it stormy parent; and we hear
>           The faint far murmur of the breaking flood.
>           We hear the sea. The Sea? It is the blood
>               In our own veins, impetuous and near,
>              And pulses keeping pace with hope and fear
>              And with our feelings' every shifting mood.
>               Lo, in my heart I hear, as in a shell,
>                    The murmur of a world beyond the grave,
>              Distinct, distinct though faint and far it be.
>               Thou fool: this echo is a cheat as well,-
>                    The hum of earthly instincts; and we crave
>                A world unreal a, shell -heard sea
>             Eugene Lee-Hamilton (1845-1907)
>
>
> Toni |
>
>

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