| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 301. The Fisher’s Boy |
| | | By Henry David Thoreau |
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| 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. | |
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| My sole employment is, and scrupulous care, | 5 |
| To place my gains beyond the reach of tides,— | |
| Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, | |
| Which Ocean kindly to my hand confides. | |
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| I have but few companions on the shore: | |
| They scorn the strand who sail upon the sea; | 10 |
| Yet oft I think the ocean they’ve sailed o’er | |
| Is deeper known upon the strand to me. | |
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| 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, | 15 |
| And I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. | |
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