 | The poems of Celia Thaxter |  |
ON THE TRAIN
Through the storm, through the wind and the rain
Rushes the clattering train;
Past the hills, across valley and plain,
Through city and hamlet again,
With a rumble and roar we speed on
Till the half of our journey is done.
Rushes the clattering train;
Past the hills, across valley and plain,
Through city and hamlet again,
With a rumble and roar we speed on
Till the half of our journey is done.
Close wrapped in my corner I dream,
Watching the raindrops stream
O'er the misty pane, and the gleam
Of the white of the steam,
As they hurry past and are lost,
On the wings of the tempest tossed.
Watching the raindrops stream
O'er the misty pane, and the gleam
Of the white of the steam,
As they hurry past and are lost,
On the wings of the tempest tossed.
Through the smoke and the din and the blur
Fast, fast I am flying to her!
All the thunder, the rattle and whir,
The noisy discomfort, the stir,
Are nothing to me, for my sense
Is lost in a rapture intense.
Fast, fast I am flying to her!
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The noisy discomfort, the stir,
Are nothing to me, for my sense
Is lost in a rapture intense.
And like golden bees through the storm
Sweet memories cluster and swarm;
Sweet thoughts round a maidenly form
That I see by the firelight warm,—
Bright eyes that are watching the clock,
Little ears that are waiting my knock;
Sweet memories cluster and swarm;
Sweet thoughts round a maidenly form
That I see by the firelight warm,—
Bright eyes that are watching the clock,
Little ears that are waiting my knock;
And I know how the color will rush
In that beautiful mantling blush
To her cheek, till its delicate flush
Shall rival the rose, as I hush
With a word her heart's tumult divine
And she lays her white hand within mine
In that beautiful mantling blush
To her cheek, till its delicate flush
Shall rival the rose, as I hush
With a word her heart's tumult divine
And she lays her white hand within mine
Then thunder, thou clattering train,
And roar through the wind and the rain,
Past the hills, across valley and plain
Devour the long leagues!—till again
In the light of my love's happy eyes
The sun of my life shall arise.
And roar through the wind and the rain,
Past the hills, across valley and plain
Devour the long leagues!—till again
In the light of my love's happy eyes
The sun of my life shall arise.
| The poems of Celia Thaxter | |