Dora Sigerson Shorter

The Scallop Shell

A scallop shell, loosed by the lifting tide,
   Had left a friendly shore, the seas to brave;
Its lips of pink and snowy hollow shone
   Pure in the sun, a pearl upon the wave.

It gleamed and passed—you burdened it with love,
   With sweet long futures, new and dreamy days:
And named for me—because I held your hopes.
   I bid you hush—not meriting your praise.

I pointed, where your vessel came to shore,
   Wrecked where the tiny breakers rose and fell;
And bid your voyagers not put to sea
   So fail a craft as this poor scallop shell.