Celia Thaxter (1835 – 1894)
American writer of poetry and stories.
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The summer day was spoiled with fitful storm;
At night the wind died and the soft rain dropped;
With lulling murmur, and the air was warm,
And all the tumult and the trouble stopped.
Across the narrow beach we flit,
One little sand-piper and I;
And fast I gather, bit by bit.
The scattered driftwood, bleached and dry.
Already the dandelions
Are changed into vanishing ghosts.
O brief, bright smile of summer!
O days divine and dear
The voices of winter's sorrow
Already we can hear.
What though our eyes with tears be wet?
The sunrise never failed us yet.
The heart of God through his creation stirs,
We thrill to feel it, trembling as the flowers
That die to live again, — his messengers,
To keep faith firm in these sad souls of ours.
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