Explore "Sea-Shells" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I GATHERED shells upon the sand, / Each shell a little perfect thing, / So frail, yet potent to withstand / The mountain-waves' wild buffeting.
Through storms no ship could dare to brave / The little shells float lightly, save / All that they might have lost of fine / Shape and soft colour crystalline.
Yet I amid the world's wild surge / Doubt if my soul can face the strife, / The waves of circumstance that urge / That slight ship on the rocks of life.
O soul, be brave, for He who saves / The frail shell in the giant waves, / Will bring thy puny bark to land / Safe in the hollow of His hand.