I am standing on the sea shore,
A ship sails in the morning breeze
and starts
for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her
Till at last she fades on the horizon
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her
Till at last she fades on the horizon
and someone at my side
says:
“She is gone.”
“She is gone.”
Gone! Where?
Gone from my sight – that is all.
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars
Gone from my sight – that is all.
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars
as she
was when I saw her
And just as able to bear her load of living freight
And just as able to bear her load of living freight
to its destination.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me,
not in her.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me,
not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my
side says,
“She is gone”,
There are others who are watching her coming,
“She is gone”,
There are others who are watching her coming,
and other voices take up a glad shout:
“There she comes”
– and that is dying.
“There she comes”
– and that is dying.
Bishop Brent
1862 – 1926
1862 – 1926