Friday, March 4, 2016
Harold was a fine man with a quick smile, always a helping hand and just a fine guy in so many ways.
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 for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then some 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 destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at that 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!”
And that is dying...
