age of man. The deathless sea takes no note of 1 

 the flight of time ; it still brings forth only brood 

 upon brood of slimy, goggle-eyed things. 



What a harvest, this of the sea ! After a storm 

 all craft put out. The lobstermen in their dories 

 take in the lobster-pots and replenish the bait, 

 while the dory rises and sinks on the long swells. 

 Fleets of mackerel boats and schooners bound for 

 the Banks after cod and haddock creep along the 

 horizon-line. On the beach men rake up the 

 Irish moss, flung ashore in the storm, and spread 

 it on old sails to bleach in the sun. Others haul 

 kelp for the fields, while women gather driftwood. 

 So great a resource is the ocean ; so many gleaners 

 there are. 



The sea is humanized and redeemed somewhat 

 by the presence of these workers. It is agreeable 

 to reflect that while it nourishes them, they in 

 turn do not mar it. Man communicates the char- 

 after of his mind and aims to the landscape; 

 enriches it by his labor on the farm, and disfigures 

 it again in a thousand ways, till it is as barren and 

 sordid as his own thoughts. But upon the deep 

 he makes no impression. It is virgin ever. It 

 overpowers him by its stern music lifts him for 



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