Celia Thaxter

(29 June 1835 – 25 August 1894 / Portsmouth, New Hampshire)

Celia Thaxter Poems

1. A Tryst 1/3/2003
2. Alone 3/21/2012
3. Compensation 1/3/2003
4. Connoisseurs 1/3/2003
5. Dust 1/3/2003
6. Guests 1/3/2003
7. Imprisoned 3/21/2012
8. Karen 1/3/2003
9. Land-Locked 1/3/2003
10. Lars 1/3/2003
11. May Morning 3/21/2012
12. Off Shore 1/3/2003
13. Regret 3/21/2012
14. Seaward To____ 3/21/2012
15. Slumber Song 1/3/2003
16. Song 3/21/2012
17. Spring 3/21/2012
18. The Pimpernel 3/21/2012
19. The Sandpiper 1/3/2003
20. The Shag 1/3/2003
21. The Spaniards' Graves 1/3/2003
22. Thora 1/3/2003

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Best Poem of Celia Thaxter

The Sandpiper

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,
One ...

Read the full of The Sandpiper


Here is a problem, a wonder for all to see.
Look at this marvelous thing I hold in my hand!
This is a magic surprising, a mystery
Strange as a miracle, harder to understand.

What is it? Only a handful of earth: to your touch
A dry rough powder you trample beneath your feet,
Dark and lifeless; but think for a moment, how much
It hides and holds that is beautiful, bitter, or sweet.

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