I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts out for the wide
She is an object of beauty and strength and I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud dust just where the sea and sky come to mingle .
Then someone at my side says "There! She's gone!" Gone where?
Gone from my sight, that is all.
She is just as mighty in mast and hull and spry as she was when she
left my side, and she is just as able to bear her load of living weight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my side says
"There! She's gone!"
There are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "There she comes!"
And that is dying.