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Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Oh, you who read some song that I have sung Ц What know you of the soul from whence it sprung? Dost dream the poet ever speaks aloud His secret thought unto the listening crowd? Go take the murmuring sea-shell from the shore- You have its shape, its colour Ц and no more. It tells not one of those vast mysteries That lie beneath the surface of the seas. Our songs are shells, cast out by waves of thought; Here, take them at your pleasure; but think not YouТve seen the beneath the surface of the waves, Where lie our shipwrecks, and our coral caves.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Ella Wheeler Wilcox's other poems:
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