Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE SONNET by SAMUEL VALENTINE COLE

First Line: ART GAVE IT US AS NATURE DOTH A SHELL
Last Line: AND ALL THE MUSIC FLED FROM IT AWAY.
ART gave it us as Nature doth a shell:
It holds the murmurings of the infinite deep
Of mind and thought; through its small arches creep
The voices born about the sacred well;
Here love and life their secret visions tell;
And souls of old forgotten things that sweep
In music low along the shores of sleep,
Do haunt its chambers with some potent spell.
Whate'er the seas have whispered to the lands
A shell repeats; this sings the heart's own lay.
But when I raised it dripping from the sands
To bear it to my cabinet, woe the day!
The tiny treasure brake within my hands,
And all the music fled from it away.



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