I am standing upon the sea shore, a ship at my side spreads her white sales to the morning breeze and starts to the blue ocean, she is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length until she hangs like a spec of white cloud just were sea and sky come to mingle with each other. Then someone at my sides says " there she is gone." Gone where? Gone from my site. That is all ,

she is just as large and mass and hale˙ and spare as she was when she left my side, and she is just as able to bare her lode to her living fate to her destine port. Her diminished size is in 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" . That is dying.