The Sand-Piper
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.
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 sand-piper 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 little sand-piper and I.
I watch him as he skims along
Uttering his sweet and mournful cry;
He starts not at my fitful song,
Or flash of fluttering drapery.
He has no thought of any wrong;
He scans me with a fearless eye.
Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong,
The little sand-piper and I.
Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night
When the loosed storm breaks furiously?
My driftwood fire will burn so bright!
To what warm shelter canst thou fly?
I do not fear for thee, though wroth
The tempest rushes through the sky
For are we not God’s children both,
Thou, little sand-piper, and I?
by Celia Thaxter (1862)
*sand-piper: later spellings omit the hyphen, forming the word as ‘sandpiper’
Celia Thaxter was born as Celia Laighton on 29 June 1835 in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, United States of America. She became a poet and a writer. Her published works include “Among the Isles of Shoals” (1878) and “An Island Garden” (1894). Celia Thaxter passed on at 58 years of age on 25 August 1894 on Appledore Island, Isles of Shoals, Maine, United States of America.
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.
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 sand-piper 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 little sand-piper and I.
I watch him as he skims along
Uttering his sweet and mournful cry;
He starts not at my fitful song,
Or flash of fluttering drapery.
He has no thought of any wrong;
He scans me with a fearless eye.
Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong,
The little sand-piper and I.
Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night
When the loosed storm breaks furiously?
My driftwood fire will burn so bright!
To what warm shelter canst thou fly?
I do not fear for thee, though wroth
The tempest rushes through the sky
For are we not God’s children both,
Thou, little sand-piper, and I?
by Celia Thaxter (1862)
*sand-piper: later spellings omit the hyphen, forming the word as ‘sandpiper’
Celia Thaxter was born as Celia Laighton on 29 June 1835 in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, United States of America. She became a poet and a writer. Her published works include “Among the Isles of Shoals” (1878) and “An Island Garden” (1894). Celia Thaxter passed on at 58 years of age on 25 August 1894 on Appledore Island, Isles of Shoals, Maine, United States of America.