This rock I hold has lived longer
Than any man who’s ever been.
Even all those who live through tales
Are not as old as whom I hold.
Even the first to walk these shores
Knew of this rock that I now know.
He watched them come and then pass on;
Their bones beneath the white sea foam.
Yet he lived on, and shall for years
Meet new tenants who come and go.
And watch a million more sunsets
As we pass on with ours of old.
He’s lived the past and shall observe
The future world our sons compose.