Eugene Field is the author of this:
Upon the mountain height, far from the sea,
I found a shell;
And to my listening ear the lonely thing
Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing,
Ever a tale of ocean seemed to tell.
How came the shell upon that mountain height?
Ah, who can say?
Whether there dropt by some too careless hand,
Or whether there cast when ocean swept the land,
Ere the eternal had ordained the day.
Strange, was it not! Far from its native deep,
One song it sang--
Sang of the awful mysteries of the tide,
Sang of the misty sea, profound and wide,
Ever with echoes of the ocean rang.
And as the shell upon the mountain height
Sings of the sea,
So do I ever, leagues and leagues away--
So do I ever, wandering where I may,
Sing, O my home! sing, O my home! of thee. (Text.)
(1540)
* * * * *
A solemn murmur in its soul
Tells of the world to be,
As travelers hear the billows roll,
Before they reach the sea.
(1541)