The Somerset reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1868-1909, 1885-05-06
ny Liver WENDELL HOLMES.


uThe Ocean says to the dweller on
its shores -
utYou are neither welcome nor
nnwelcome. l do not trouble myself
with the living tribes that come down
to nv waters. have my own PEG
pie. an older race than yours, that
grow to mightier dimensions than
your mastodons and elephants more
numerous than all the swarms that
fill the air or move over the crust OF
the earth. Who are you that bulld
your gay palaces on my mar GIN
see YOUR white faces as l saw the
dark faces of the tribes that came
before you, as l shall look upon the
unknown family of mankind that
will come after you. And what Is
your whole human family but a pa
renthesis in a single page OF my MS,
toryi The raindrops stereotyped
themselves on my beaches before
living creature left his footprints
there. This horseshoe. crab l fling
at your feet is of older lineage than
your Adam,-unless, perhaps, you
count your Adam as one of his de-
scendants. What feeling have l for
youf Not scorn,-nOt hatred,-not
ioye.-not lOathing,-NO! -indiffer.
ence,-blank indifference to you and
your affairs, that is my feeling, say
rather absence of feeling, as regards
you. Oh yes, l will lap your feet,i l
will cool you in the hot summer
days, will bear you up in my strong
arms, ] will rock you on my rolling
undulations, like babe in his era
die. Am I not gentle Am l not
kindi Am l not harmless But
bark The wind is rising, and the
wind and l are rough playmates
What do you say to my voice now
DO you see my foaming lips' DO
YOU feel the rocks tremb!e as my
great pillows crash against them
Is not my anger terrible as l dash
your argosy. your Misunderstanding
frigate, into fragments, as you would
crack an eggshell No, not anger
deaf, blind, unheeding Indifference,
that is all. Out Of me all things
arose; sooner or later, into me all
things subside. All changes around
me / change not. l look net at you,
vain man, and your frail transit
tory concerns, save in mOmentary
glimpses; look on the white face
of my dead mistress, whom l follow
as the bridegroom follows the bier Of
her who has changed her nuptia
raiment for the shrOud
I" Ye whose thoughts are of eter
nifty, come dwell at my side. Cont
nents and isles grow old, and waste
and disappear. The hardest rocl
crumbles vegetable and animal king
doms come into being, wax great, de
cline, and perish, to give way to 9th
ers, even as human dynasties ant
nations and races come and 60. Lool
on me "Time writes nor wrinkle
on my forehead. Listen to me! Al
tongues are spoken on my shores
but l have only one language; tn
winds taught me their vOwels; tn
crags and the sands schOOled me il
my rough or smooth consOnants
Few words are mine, but l hav
whispered them and sung them ant
shouted them to men of all tribe
from the time when the first will
wanderer strayed into my awftl
presence. Have you grief tina
knaws at your heart-stringsi Com
with it to my shore, as of old tn
priest of fardarting Apollo carries
his rage an anguish to the margin Q
the loud. roaring sea. There, if any
where, you will forget your privat
and short-lived woe, for my voic
speaks to the infinite and the etel
nal in your consciousness.-May al
Jantic.