memorial

In Memory.....

The Ship, by Luther Beecher
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 strength and beauty, and I stand
and watch her until she is only a ribbon of
white cloud where the sea and the sky seem to
mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says,
"There, she's gone!" Gone? Gone where? Gone from my sight, that's all.
She is just as complete in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side, and just as able
to bear her precious freight to the place of destination.
Her diminished appearance is in me-not her.
And at the very moment when someone at my side says,
"There, she's gone!", other voices shout with gladness,
"Here she comes!" And that is death.
Death is only a horizon, and a horizon is the limit of our sight.