Poem

I just received word that Edna passed away. All at once I feel sadness and joy.


Perhaps this poem explains why:



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, and I stand and watch her



until at length she lands like a speck of white cloud just where



the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.



Then someone at my side says: "There! She's 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 just as able to bear her load



of living freight to the place of destination. 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!