Celia Thaxter Poems
- The Sandpiper Across the lonely beach we flit, One little ...
- Land-Locked Black lie the hills; swiftly doth daylight ...
- May Morning WARM, wild, rainy wind, blowing ...
- Off Shore Rock, little boat, beneath the quiet sky, Only the...
- A Tryst From out the desolation of the North An iceberg took...
- Guests Sunflower tall and hollyhock, that wave in the wind ...
- Compensation In that new world toward which our feet are ...
Celia Laighton Thaxter was an American writer of poetry and stories. She was born in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.
Life and work
Thaxter grew up in the Isles of Shoals, first on White Island, where her father, Thomas Laighton, was a lighthouse keeper, and then on Smuttynose and Appledore Islands.
When she was sixteen, she married Levi Thaxter and moved to the mainland, residing first in Watertown, Massachusetts at a property his father owned. In 1854, they accepted an offer to use a house in Newburyport. The couple then acquired their own home, today called the Celia Thaxter House, built in 1856 near the Charles River at Newtonville. She had a son, Roland, born ... more »
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Across the lonely beach we flit,
One little sandpiper and I,
And fast I gather, but by bit,
The scattered drift-wood, bleached and dry.
The wild waves reach their hands for it,
The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
As up and down the beach we flit,
One little sandpiper and I.
Above our heads the sullen clouds
Scud, black and swift, across the sky:
Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds
Stand out the white light-houses high.
Almost as far as eye can reach
I see the close-reefed vessels fly,
As fast we flit along the beach,