The Ocean A descriptive Essay The ocean, to me, is like a person; it seems capable of great emotion, of hate, love, and despair. It can, at its worst, be an ogre, a monster of old terrifying all those about it; or in its calm, may appear as a quiet, serene, and loving old lady. The waves can speak, expressing their thoughts, telling their life stor¬ies to those who care to listen end understand. To stand on the sandy "beach and gaze out across the quiet waves in the early morning sunrise is a thrilling experience, full of deep feeling. The waters seem to symbolise gladness, to usher in a day of joy. As the sun casts its rays across the gleaming crystals of water, all the shades of a lunar rainbow may be seen. But to view the sea on a stormy, windy day, to see the angry waves, tossing madly to and fro, fills one's heart with fear and despair as he realizes the full power in that mighty, heaving body. At times like this all the gods of the world seem to have loosed their vengeance upon the sea, to be spreading their wrath on all who are on the billowing surface. They ere demanding the sacrifice of souls to atone for mortals' mistakes. Peaceful sunset on the ocean's waves tells a different story, tells the world good-bye, insures on it restful tranquillity, and brings a feeling of safety to the land. It is like a mother's goodnight kiss, leaving her child with no fear of the coming night. On days before a storm the ocean is a turbid mass of dirty, copper colored water. The soul of the sea is heavy with hate and a great feeling of envy. The day is sultry and hot. Then the storm breaks; the sea seems to release part of its pent up hate, reliev¬ing it: mind of the heaviness within. A rainy, murky day is as a person when he is gloomy; his mouth turns down and invokes on all a feeling of downright despair. The ocean is like this; its face wears a sad expression and its heart is filled with gloom. I remember how, as a child, I stood on the beach, trembling as I looked at the monster before me, clinging to my mother's hand, fearing lest I be swept away. The sea was so big and cold and very dreadful. That, however, was before I learned to interpret the water, for in its different moods the ocean speaks, talking in soft, sweet whispers, or in loud and mighty voice as its spirit may denote. The beat of the surf against the shore is the voice of the waves; the deep undertone tells thrilling tales of adventure, love, and tragedy. The waters of the ocean are as human as many people and for¬tunate are the individuals who can imdeistand its voice—the voice of the gods of the universe. Kathryn Ellsworth