Heaven shaped her ear in fashioning the shell,
A pearly circlet, lined with faintest pink;
So dainty thin, the light of heaven may wink
Through the fine curves of its translucent cell.
A Delphic pilgrim at the mystic well,
Resolved untimely of his fate to drink,
Not more devoutly o’er the awful brink
Poured prayers, than I to my sweet oracle.
By night and day, one plenteous act of grace
From my disposer for myself I claim–
No novel favor, nought of power or fame;
But only this, to keep my present place,
Unchanged and changeless in her breast; the same
Dear smile of welcome in her pensive face.
(George Henry Boker)
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