GIVING to all, thou gavest as well to me.
A myriad thirsty shores await the tide:
They drink and drink, and will not be denied;
But not a drop less full the brimming Sea.
One tiny shell among the kelp and weed,
One sand-grain where the beaches stretch away,—
How shall the tide regard them? Yet each day
It comes, and fills and satisfies their need.
What can the singing sands give to the Sea?
What the dumb shell, though inly it rejoice?
Only the echo of its own strong voice;—
And this is all that here I bring to thee.