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Celia Thaxter
Across the lonely beach we flit,
One little sandpiper and I, And fast I gather, bit 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 little sandpiper and I.
I watch him as he skims along,
Uttering his sweet and mournful cry; He starts not at my fitful song,
Nor 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 sandpiper and I.
Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night, When the loosed storm breaks furiously ?
My drift-wood 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 sandpiper, and I ?
Jean Ingelow.
The moon is bleached as white as wool,
And just dropping under; Every star is gone but three,
And they haug wide asunder� There's a sea-ghost all in gray,
A tall shape of wonder!
I am not satisfied with sleep�
The night is not ended. But look how the sea-ghost comes,
With wan skirts extended, Stealing up in this weird hour,
When light and dark are blended.
A vessel! to the old pier end Her happy course she's keeping;
I heard them name her yesterday : Some were pale with weeping;
Some with their heart-hunger sighed, She's in�and they are sleeping.

E-Book - An Annotated Compendium of Old Time American Songs by James Alverson III