What, though the sea-shell cheats the ear,
And from my blood, free-coursing near,
Unspheres the far and murmurous phantom
Of breaking seas that I faintly hear?
Of life beyond there come to me
Hints truer than shell's phantom sea,—
I brood all space, the past, the present,
And timeless realms of eternity!
The rose-lipt thing has lost its pearl,—
Death's chamber is its polished whorl;
I am a life, and feel of Being
No phantom touch, but the vital swirl.