It seemed as though spring would never come this year. It’s been a particularly long, harsh, cold Maine winter. Slowly but surely the weather is becoming tolerable. I’ve just started April vacation and could think of nothing better than to spend a day by the sea, face raised up toward the sun, laughing and catching up with one of my best friends. We packed a picnic, dressed warmly (it was a windy 58 degrees), and listened to the waves crash onto the shores of Crescent Beach.
Whereon shall no man work, but play;
Whereon it is enough for me,
Not to be doing, but to be!
Through every nerve, through every vein,
I feel the electric thrill, the touch
Of life, that seems almost too much.
I hear the wind among the trees
Playing celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.
The splendid scenery of the sky,
Where though a sapphire sea the sun
Sails like a golden galleon,
Towards yonder cloud-land in the West,
Towards yonder Islands of the Blest,
Whose steep sierra far uplifts
Its craggy summits white with drifts.
The snow-flakes of the cherry-blooms!
Blow, winds! and bend within my reach
The fiery blossoms of the peach!
O Life and Love! O happy throng
Of thoughts, whose only speech is song!
O heart of man! canst thou not be
Blithe as the air is, and as free?
