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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374315" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>With the Tide</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Somewhere I read, in an old book whose name <br>Is gone from me, I read that when the days <br>Of a man are counted, and his business done, <br>There comes up the shore at evening, with the tide, <br>To the place where he sits, a boat— <br>And in the boat, from the place where he sits, he sees, <br>Dim in the dusk, dim and yet so familiar, <br>The faces of his friends long dead; and knows <br>They come for him, brought in upon the tide, <br>To take him where men go at set of day. <br>Then rising, with his hands in theirs, he goes <br>Between them his last steps, that are the first <br>Of the new life—and with the ebb they pass, <br>Their shaken sail grown small upon the moon. <br>Often I thought of this, and pictured me <br>How many a man who lives with throngs about him, <br>Yet straining through the twilight for that boat <br>Shall scarce make out one figure in the stern, <br>And that so faint its features shall perplex him <br>With doubtful memories—and his heart hang back. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But others, rising as they see the sail <br>Increase upon the sunset, hasten down, <br>Hands out and eyes elated; for they see <br>Head over head, crowding from bow to stern, <br>Repeopling their long loneliness with smiles, <br>The faces of their friends; and such go forth <br>Content upon the ebb tide, with safe hearts. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But never to worker summoned when his day was done <br>Did mounting tide bring in such freight of friends <br>As stole to you up the white wintry shingle <br>That night while they that watched you thought you slept. <br>Softly they came, and beached the boat, and gathered <br>In the still cove under the icy stars, <br>Your last-born, and the dear loves of your heart, <br>And all men that have loved right more than ease, <br>And honor above honors; all who gave <br>Free-handed of their best for other men, <br>And thought their giving taking: they who knew <br>Man's natural state is effort, up and up— <br>All these were there, so great a company <br>Perchance you marvelled, wondering what great ship <br>Had brought that throng unnumbered to the cove <br>Where the boys used to beach their light canoe <br>After old happy picnics— </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But these, your friends and children, to whose hands, <br>Committed, in the silent night you rose <br>And took your last faint steps— <br>These led you down, O great American, <br>Down to the Winter night and the white beach, <br>And there you saw that the huge hull that waited <br>Was not as are the boats of the other dead, <br>Frail craft for a brief passage; no, for this <br>Was first of a long line of towering transports, <br>Storm-worn and ocean-weary every one, <br>The ships you launched, the ships you manned, the ships <br>That now, returning from their sacred quest <br>With the thrice-sacred burden of their dead, <br>Lay waiting there to take you forth with them, <br>Out with the ebb tide, on some farther quest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edith+Wharton">Edith Wharton</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374315" data-title="With the Tide de Edith Wharton" data-description="Somewhere I read, in an old book whose name 
Is gone from me, I read that when the days 
Of a man are counted, and his business done, 
There comes up the shore at evening, with the tide, 
To the place where he sits, a boat— 
And in the boat, fro..."></div>
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