From the Omaha Daily Bee, February 23, 1913.
By Alexander Blackburn.
I stood by the shore at the ebb of the tide
When the beach grew each moment more ugly and wide—
There were moss-covered rocks, slimy weeds and black mud
All the beauty was gone from the place where I stood;
With the salt-laden breeze came the stench of decay
And I said, “The sea’s charm has been taken away.”
Then there came for my cheer this truth which all know:
As sure as the ebb of the tide is its flow.
On the shores of the ocean of life there are days
When the tide is at ebb and heart has no praise.
When the flotsam and jetsam are strewn on the strand
And our hopes are but wrecks on the sin-blackened sand;
When the fragrance of joy has a sickening taint
And we turn from the scenes with eyes wet and heart faint;
Till there comes from above the blest truth we all know:
As sure as the ebb of the tide is its flow.