I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts from the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hands like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!”
“Gone where?”
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight To her destined port.
Her diminished size is me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!” there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!”
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lots of *hugs*
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Gone From My Sight
By Henry Van Dyke
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning
breeze and starts from the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand
and watch her until at length she hands like a speck of white cloud just where the sea
and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!”
“Gone where?”
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she
was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight
To her destined port.
Her diminished size is me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side
says: “There, she is gone!” there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!”
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