Henry David Thoreau



                   The Fisher's Boy


                   My life is like a stroll upon the beach, 
                      As near the ocean’s edge as I can go; 
                   My tardy steps its waves sometimes o’erreach, 
                      Sometimes I stay to let them overflow. 
                   My sole employment is, and scrupulous care, 
                      To place my gains beyond the reach of tides, —
                   Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, 
                      Which Ocean kindly to my hand confides. 

                   I have but few companions on the shore: 
                      They scorn the strand who sail upon the sea; 
                   Yet oft I think the ocean they’ve sailed o’er 
                      Is deeper known upon the strand to me. 

                   The middle sea contains no crimson dulse, 
                      Its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view; 
                   Along the shore my hand is on its pulse, 
                      And I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. 


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