Selected Poems from
Celia Thaxter's The Heavenly Guest (1935)
Introduction
At the time this page was constructed, this posthumous
collection of Celia Thaxter materials was available as a PDF
from "
Forgotten
Books." However, that edition was not fully accessible
without a subscription. Following are texts of the poems
partially or wholly blocked in the PDF.
Santa: 9
O dear, mysterious Santa Claus,
The best and kindest that ever was,
Are you up there in the thin blue smoke?
Was that the wind or your voice that spoke?
I thought of your coming the whole year through.
Are there some children who know not you?
Who are hungry and sad in the cold and snow?
Oh find them out, for you surely know.
On the warm stone I kneel and pray:
Give them a merry Christmas day.
Bless great and small and let no one grieve;
Remember us all this Christmas Eve.
Song: Lift up thy light, O Soul: 9
Lift up thy light, O Soul, arise and shine!
Steadfast though all the storms of life
assail,
Immortal spark of the great Light Divine!
Against whose power no tempest shall
prevail --
Hold high thy light above earth's restless tides,
Scatter thy messages of light afar!
Falsehood and folly pass, but truth abides,
Be thine the splendor of her deathless star
--
When the world sins and sorrows round thee rave
Pierce thou the darkness with thy
dauntless ray,
Send out thy happy beams to help and save
"More and more shining to the perfect
day."
Note
The final line is quoted from the final line of John Greenleaf
Whittier's "Lines on Leaving Appledore."
Maize: 16
For the Nation's Emblem*
Upon a hundred thousand plains
Its banners rustle in the breeze,
O'er all the nation's* wide domains,
From coast to coast betwixt the seas.
It storms the hills and fills the vales,
It marches like an army grand,
The continent its presence hails,
Its beauty brightens all the land.
Far back through history's shadowy page
It shines, a power of boundless good,
The people's prop from age to age,
The one unfailing wealth of food,
God's gift to the New World's great need,
That helped to build the nation's strength
Up through beginnings rude to lead
A higher race of men at length.
How straight and tall and stately stand
Its serried stalks upright and strong!
How nobly are its outlines planned,
What grace and charm to it belong!
What splendid curves in rustling leaves!
What richness in its close-set gold!
What largess in its clustered sheaves
New every year, though ages old!
America, from thy broad breast
It sprang, beneficent and bright,
Of all thy gifts from heaven the host,
For the world's succor and delight.
Then do it honor, give it praise!
A noble emblem should be ours;
Upon thy fair shield set thy maize,
More glorious than a myriad flowers.
And let thy States their garland bring,
Each its own lovely blossom sign
But leading all, let Maize be king,
Holding its place by right divine.
Note
emblem: Though this has not been established, it
seems likely that this poem was composed in relation to the
World's Columbian Exposition, held in
Chicago during 1893.
nation's: The text in this book reads
"nations'," but in
The New England Magazine, it reads
"nation's," which is more likely to be correct.
Sonnet: O were I loved as I desire to be: 17
O were I loved as I desire to be!
What is there in the great sphere of the
earth
Or range of evil between death and birth
That I should fear, if I were loved by
thee?
All the inner, all the outer world of pain
Clear love would pierce and cleave, if thou
wast mine;
As I have heard that somewhere in the main
Fresh water springs come up through bitter
brine,
'Twere joy, not fear, clasped hand in hand with thee,
To wait for death, -- mute, careless of all
ills
Apart upon a mountain, tho' the surge .
Of some new deluge from a thousand hills
Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge
Below us, as far as eye could see!
Cotton: 24
I looked abroad from the rocky height to the vast round ring
of the world;
A throng of vessels on the sea their white sails had unfurled,
With wide wings glittering in the light, east, west, north,
south, they flew;
The breeze sent each up on its way across the level blue.
Musing, I marked their beauty, and thought of their varied
use,
From the sprit-sailed fishers' little voyage to the whalers'
Arctic cruise,
From the patient coasters' canvas to the mighty column of
white
That clothes the great ship proudly to the top of her stately
height.
Four-masted schooners ponderous with acres of sailcloth stout,
Great fans of yachts spread out to catch all airs that stir
about;
Such press of sail from stem to stern, from deck to topmast
tall,
They skyward yearn and hardly seem to touch the earth at all.
The lateen sails of Southern Seas, curved like the pinions
light
Of soaring gulls, and then the folds of raiment glowing bright
With which fair Venice drapes her masts, with colors rich and
deep,
To woo soft Adriatic airs that in the stillness sleep.
And it seemed a wonderful thing to me that all the countless
sails
Should spring from out of the dusty earth, that the cotton
plant should grow,
Blossoming golden o'er myriad fields, to scatter its filmy
snow
From the ripened seed in a dazzling cloud, to be gathered and
woven and spun
For the use of man in every one of the nations under the sun.
And I thought, as I gazed at the gleaming sails, there is
nothing large or small;
The poppy seed I can hardly see is as great as the earth's
huge ball.
For the spirit of God is in every thing, and the life of all
is one,
From the wing of the gnat and the breath of the rose to the
central fires of the sun.
Whittier: 25
Fame lays her golden trumpet to her lips
And breathes a name the world perforce must hear.
"Listen," she whispers in its drowsy ear,
"Here is a light shall suffer no eclipse;
A crescent with its glory just begun,
A spark from the great central fire sublime.
A crescent that shall orb into a sun
And burn in splendor through the mists of Time!
For I will set it, glittering clear, among
The galaxy of great names hung on high
Like steadfast stars upon the midnight
sky,
To hold its place amid the dazzling throng,
Dauntless and deathless on the heavenly height,
For all men's homage, wonder, and delight.
Song: O delicate west wind: 30
O delicate west wind blowing
Soft over the flowery land,
Till thick sweet blossoms are snowing
O'er earth at the touch of thy hand;
Go find my love where she lingers
'Mid fragrant orchard shades;
Clasp gently her warm white fingers,
And ruffle her golden braids.
Her beauty to all beholders
Makes summer more rich and bright;
The kerchief over her shoulders
Like any blossom is white.
O what is the day without her!
Unmeaning its splendor grows.
O west wind, whisper about her
My name like the breath of a rose!
Yule Log: 33
Come gather round the Yule log's blaze!
In light and laughter leap the flames,
The fire sings like a hymn of praise,
Its warmth the heart of winter tames.
Behold the house is all aglow
From door to roof with Christmas cheer!
What matter how the cold winds blow!
Comfort and peace and joy are here.
Come share the Yule log's glorious heat!
For many a year the grand old tree
Stood garnering up the sunshine sweet,
To keep for our festivity.
And now our Christmas Eve to bless
See how it yields its ardent rays!
As if to wish you happiness,
Honor and love and length of days.
''Welcome," it smiles with every beam,
Saluting you with kindly power.
Its golden banners flash and gleam,
Its mellow splendor crowns the hour.
Then gather round the flames so bright,
Forget that winter blasts are stern,
So fervently this holy night
On friendships' hearth the Yule fires burn.
In Fredericksburg: 40
In Fredericksburg, when all the troubled town
With war's dread signs and wounded men was filled
And death among the crowd moved up and down,
And many a soldier's torture touched and stilled,
One, on whose heart such love and pity weighed
For those brave men as could not be expressed,
Where the South's rich red roses stood arrayed
In lavish beauty, made his tender quest.
And gathering wealth of blossoms, sought the rooms
Where vainly feverish anguish wooed repose,
Passed soft from couch to couch with those fair blooms
And upon every pillow laid a rose.
They lifted up their saddened, grateful eyes
And blessed him with a look, who could not speak:
Some murmured thanks who never more might rise,
And begged him lay it nearer lip and cheek.
The sweet red rose, that they might feel its breath,
Filling the gloom and silence chill and drear,
And in the presence dread of pain and death
Yet knew that dear familiar beauty near.
And so he passed, and left along his way
Feeling that baffles thought and tongue and pen,
A flutter of pathetic joy, a ray
From the near heaven on those devoted men.
Deep down and close to the heart's fount of tears,
Sweet among sweetest things the memory lies;
He shall not lose, were life a thousand years,
The speechless blessing of those grateful eyes.
William Mason: 41*
As some benign magician doth he sit
Before the ivory keys, and at his will
Rise heavenly dreams and fancies sweet that flit
Like spirits of delight the soul to thrill.
At his delicious touch the music flows,
A golden tide of melody divine,
Till the heart kindles at the sound, and glows,
Draining deep draughts of an immortal wine.
All moods, -- and rest, refreshment, joy, warmth, light,
Youth and its roses call him from the keys
That lie before him mute and cold and white;
The Master he, his willing vassals these.
And would you kindness know that has no end?
Know him! And I am proud to call him friend.
Note
Mason:
William Mason (1829-1908) was an
American composer and pianist.
Romance: 41
O soft and cool the pure, delicious breeze
Of morning blew across the sparkling bay,
And ringed with emerald and sapphire seas
Melting in golden distance Capri lay.
The little steamer smoked and puffed and ploughed
Through waves like jewels leaping in the
sun,
Her freight a gay and pleasure-seeking crowd,
Bent on a day's enjoyment, every one.
Aft, in a corner, sheltered from the glare,
Two travellers sat quietly and close,
One sunny-haired and exquisitely fair,
With cheek as delicate as some fresh rose.
The crowd, the place, the planet might have been
Obliterated for that charming bride!
Under her parasol's dark silken screen
Six feet of manliness sat by her side.
Just so much measured her enchanted world!
Her whole horizon, it was plain to see.
With one gloved hand his blond moustache he curled
And forward leaned to whisper tenderly.
Their elegance and most distinguished grace
My swift glance caught, swept heedlessly
that way,
As wave and sky to me, they held their place,
Part of the pageant of the perfect day.
Mediterranean splendors! What to her
Were matchless color and consummate form,
Vesuvius or Capri, or the stir
Of jewelled waves or breezes soft and warm?
The lovely island near and nearer drew,
Vesuvius' dusky plume lay thin and light
Behind us, dreaming in the lofty blue,
Naples along the coast line glittered
white.
Ah, how divinely beautiful! I thought,
And gazing round me with delighted eyes,
Again they chanced across the two and caught
A sudden dazzling gleam of Paradise.
'Twas but a look I saw her lift to him,
Swift, furtive, -- but glory of the earth
Before its tempered radiance faded dim,
The wide world's beauty seemed as nothing
worth
Compared to this strong, sweet and wondrous dream.
This hint of heaven, this potent spell,
This deep bewilderment of bliss supreme
No mind can fathom and no tongue can tell,
Alas! 'Twas long ago, I wonder where
Unresting Time has borne them since that
day,
The handsome lover and the lady fair.
Measureless spaces from that dream away!
But Nature keeps her youth, still Capri lies
Melting in sapphire, rose and amethyst,
The air breathes soft, clear smile the tender skies,
And the bright coast by sparkling waves is
kissed.
In the Valley: 48
The trees stood up in stillness
There was no wind to sigh,
Like warm tears fell the sudden rain
Out of the morning sky,
Then ceased; and the autumn quiet
Was broken by no sound,
As the last gold leaves of the maple
Fell wavering to the ground.
Then the waking world blushed softly
With tender tints of rose,
And I heard from the far, wild mountains
The clamoring of the crows.
And I knew how, high in the heavens
O'er the forest-tops and the rocks,
They wheeled in the furthest distance
Their ragged and dusky flocks.
Their faint and broken clamor,
That rang through the cloudy sky,
Seemed calling me out of the quiet,
With harsh, imperious cry.
As if from the world's dull tumult
Of hurry and strife and wrong,
Beyond the protecting mountains,
A summons sounded strong.
But O, the peace of the valley!
And fain was I to stay,
Clasping such warm, kind hands in mine,
So sheltered and safe alway.
O faint, discordant voices,
O dark, sad birds that call,
Tomorrow, I said, I wander
Beyond the blue mountain wall.
But the valley's peace shall be sweeter
For the blessing I leave behind;
For thoughts like troops of white-winged doves
Sent back to this threshold kind.
The love I leave in the gentle house
Shall blossom sweet as a rose;
Shall linger with all summer's warmth,
Untouched by the winter snows.
Almighty Love: 49
Out of the blackness of night springs the glory of morn.
Out of the deeps of sorrow shall joy
emerge.
From the trouble of tears is the rainbow of beauty born
To span the track of the tempest from verge
to verge.
Look up to the splendor of God, O ye mourners of earth
To the promise of faith, to the Hope that
shall not fail
For death is no longer death, but a glorious birth
And over despair and darkness shall Love
prevail.
Yea the glory is thine, O Love that never forsakes!
Almighty Love, Thy touch doth the grave
destroy,
And the prisoned soul from its chrysalis dim outbreak,
And heavenward floats in a rapture of light
and joy!
To Pasture: 56
Originally titled "Little Justine"
Wide Awake 17: 6 (Nov 1883): 347.
There's a touch of frost in the crisp, fresh air,
And the trees and hedges are growing bare,
And Autumn says, “It is my turn now,
As she strips the leaves from the patient bough.
All in the bright morning comes little Justine,
With the prettiest bossy that ever was seen.
But though he's so sleek and so handsome a calf,
He has too much will of his own, by half.
And he does not like to be led away
From his mother's side in the early day,
Where the little maid's feet so lightly go,
He veers about and he trots so slow!
He'd say, if only the power had he,
“Justine, why couldn't you let me be?
I'd rather go back at once, if you please,
To yonder barn by the poplar trees.
O milk is good and clover is tough,
And I haven't begun to have breakfast enough,
And I know the meadow you take me to
Is cold and wet with the frosty dew.
But little Justine with a merry laugh
Cries, “Hurry, my beautiful bossy calf!
You will have nothing to do all day
But to sleep and to eat and to frisk and to play.
"Tis a lovely place I shall tether you in,
There are many there of your kith and kin.
You'll not be lonesome; there's plenty to eat,
You must learn to nibble the grass so sweet."
The wind blows her pretty blue cloak away
From her scarlet skirt and her apron gray,
And ruffles the mass of her yellow hair,
And kisses her cheeks that are rosy and fair.
And she looks so charming and blithe and gay,
As she trips so carelessly down the way!
But the bossy hangs back, and, "O dear," thinks he,
"Justine, how I wish you would let me be."
Sonnet: Superb the human type: 57
Superb the human type, superb the power,
The genius high, that like a starry fire
Set in the sky in some auspicious hour,
Bids all the world look upward and admire
If such a wonder comes within the scope
Of Nature's plan, can death destroy its
light,
And splendid possibilities of hope
Flash to man's dark horizon from its
height?
Great is the race that once in centuries
Blossoms in such a glorious guise at last!
Who will believe so grand a spirit dies,
Remembering how this stately creature
passed,
And with imperial step life's highway trod,
Crowned with the calm of some immortal god.
Seaside Flowers: 63
Along the brim of the curving cove the small blue skull cap
sits,
Where the grey beach bird, with happy cry, in safety feeds and
flits
And spreads or shuts the pimpernel its drowsy buds to tell
When rain will come, or skies will clear, the pretty
pimpernel!
And the pink herbrobert all the day holds up its rosy flowers,
While high above with a purple plume the lofty thistle towers,
And the golden potentilla blows, and the crow foot laughs in
the sun,,
And over rock and bush and turf wild morning glories run.
They look down o'er the tiny cove, out to the blue, blue sea,
Neighbors and friends, all beautiful, a joyful company;
And when the tide comes brimming in with soft and gentle rush
It is as if the murmuring sound said to the silence,
"Hush!”
All down the narrow beach the lilac mussel shells are strown
Among the scattered pebbles, and by the polished stone
Where the sea's hands have worn the ledge till smooth as ivory
O such a place on summer days to put your cheek, and lie
Listening to all the whispering waves that round the point go
by!
For the sun has warmed the hard cold rock till it almost human
seems,
And such a pillow as it makes for Childhood's blissful dreams!
The little glad, caressing waves! They bring their treasures
gay
To deck the lovely quiet beach, nor fail day after day
To strew the slope with crimson dulse and Olive seaweed
sprays,
And lace-like empty urchin shells, all rough with dull green
rays,
The limpet's hollow, mottled house, and amber snail shells
bright,
And brown and shining ruffled kelps and cockles, snowy white.
O such a happy, happy world! Were I to talk all day,
Not half the joy of that sweet spot could I begin to say!
And all the charming band of flowers that watch the sea and
sky,
They seem to know and love the winds that gently pass them by!
They seem to feel the freshness of the waves at every tide
As they cross the quiet water that sparkles far and wide.
The bright sails go and come at will, the white gulls float in
air,
The song sparrow and sandpiper are flitting everywhere,
But the dark blue skull cap never sighs to leave its pleasant
home,
With butterfly, or thistle-down, or sandpiper to roam
The pink herbrobert nestles close, content in sun or rain,
Nor envies the white far sails that glide across the ocean
plain;
The golden potentilla sees the soaring gull on high
Yet never does she wish for wings to join him in the sky
For all these wise and lovely lives accord with God's intent,
Each takes its lot and bears its bloom as kindly nature meant.
Whatever weather fortune sends, they greet it patiently,
Each only striving its own way a perfect thing to be.
O tell me, little children, have you on summer days
Heard what the winds are whispering and what the water says?
The small birds' chirp, the cry of gulls, the crickets' quiet
creak: --
And have you seen the charming things that have no power to
speak,
The dear, sweet humble little flowers that all so silently
Teach such a lovely lesson every day, to you and me?
Go seek them, if you know them not, when summer comes once
more.
You'll find a pleasure in them you never knew before!
Tempest: 65
O flying sails that scud before the gale,
O frowning clouds that drive o'er the dark
sea,
O melancholy winds that pipe and wail
Your hopeless chorus, ye are dear to me!
For my swift thoughts before a sadder gale
Fly, seeking some safe harbor, some sweet
rest,
Tossed on a restless sea, confused and pale,
Mist-blurred and sorrowful and all unblest.
And my horizon gathers gloom and frowns
With folded clouds that blacken the bright
day,
Heavy with tears, and the Wind's wailing drowns
In speechless sorrow all that Hope can say.
And yet a smile through the despairing mood
Breaks, half in mockery, half in wholesome
cheer;
Shall one storm spoil the world, wreck all the good,
And flood thy little life with doubt and
fear?
Thy little fleeting life, so soon at end
Upon this swinging star! Thy
breathing-space
This side death's awful gate: -- and wilt thou spend
In quarrelling with fate thy priceless
days?
Not so, sad heart, be not so base. Behold,
There is no storm time may not smooth away;
There is no night of darkness dead and cold,
That may not brighten with returning day.
God sends his tempests wrestling round the world
That health may follow, and thy little life
Owns the same land, though thy soul's sky is whirled
'Mid clouds and all the elements of strife.
What fear'st thou? Earthquake, fire, flood, hurricane,
May not destroy thee. To thy striving soul
God's endless opportunities remain
When wrath is spent and thunders cease to
roll.
Let their ignoble sighing end, and set
Thy feet firm on the Truth, and keep thou
calm.
At last shall pass the trouble and the fret,
And peaceful days shall follow, breathing
balm.
The Christmas Angel: 73
Lo, the sweet Christmas Angel, high and far.
In the clear, silent ether, poised between
The light, white crescent and the golden star,
Floats o'er the dreaming world with brow
serene.
The sweet and stately Angel! on the air
Loosing her fair white dove, to cleave the
blue
Down the wide spaces of the sky to bear
On snowy pinions peace and joy to you!
Peace and good-will to men! Look up and hail
The tidings beautiful, the news of cheer!
O Sons of Earth, the promise shall not fail
Of love that saves, and hope that knows no
fear!
Moonlight: 73
The salutation of the moonlit air,
Night's dewy breath, the fragrance of the brine,
The waste of moving waters everywhere,
The whispering of waves, -- a hush divine, --
Leagues of soft murmuring dusk to the sea's rim,
The infinite, illimitable sky,
Wherein the great orb of the moon on high
In stillness down the quiet deeps doth swim:
Behold the awful beauty of the night,
The solemn tenderness, the peace profound,
The mystery, -- God's glory in the light
And darkness both, -- His voice in every sound!
Be silent and behold where hand in hand
Great Nature and great Art together stand!
Edited with notes by Terry Heller, Coe College
October 2020
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