Upon the sea shore I do walk;
The gaudy shell of size I stalk.
I find them scattered by the waves,
Nothing now but calcium graves.
Seeking large and noble shell,
I dream of starting a cartel
That hoards the bivalve brightly dyed
And the giant mollusk's pride
To sell for profit, 'twould be bliss . . .
And if I found some ambergris!
While with these dreams I am beguiled
I spot a lone and quiet child
Who picks around the dimpled sands
With small, uncertain, gentle hands.
She finds an object finally,
So little that I cannot see.
So up to her I slowly go;
For what she has I have to know.
She gladly shows me in her palm
A tiny shell that's for her mom.
She scampers off and I am struck
By thoughts that leave me in a muck.
Delusions have me in their thrall;
Tomorrow has no gold at all.
The smallest good, when done today,
Exceeds the riches of Cathay.
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