 | The poems of Celia Thaxter |  |
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PEACE
Calm of the autumn night,
With the glow of a primrose sky
Drowned in a sea of golden light
From the harvest moon on high!
With the glow of a primrose sky
Drowned in a sea of golden light
From the harvest moon on high!
Against the rose of the sky
Winging their silent way,
Darkly the gulls go floating by
In the glow of the dying day.
Winging their silent way,
Darkly the gulls go floating by
In the glow of the dying day.
Infinite peace and calm
In the breast of the ocean wide,
In the air like delicate balm,
In the faint, sweep lapse of the tide.
In the breast of the ocean wide,
In the air like delicate balm,
In the faint, sweep lapse of the tide.
With the cricket's pensive sound,
With the breath of the late, last rose,
Comes a sense of joy profound,
And a bliss of deep repose.
With the breath of the late, last rose,
Comes a sense of joy profound,
And a bliss of deep repose.
What is thy mystic charm,
O beautiful autumn night!
Not the sigh of the south wind warm,
Not thy harvest moon's pure light;
O beautiful autumn night!
Not the sigh of the south wind warm,
Not thy harvest moon's pure light;
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Not the calm of the glassy sea,
Reflecting thy stars above;
Nor thy perfumes borne to me
On the balmy air I love:
Reflecting thy stars above;
Nor thy perfumes borne to me
On the balmy air I love:
But the soul of all thou art
Calls to the soul in me,
And speaks to my quiet heart
With the voice of sky and sea.
Calls to the soul in me,
And speaks to my quiet heart
With the voice of sky and sea.
| The poems of Celia Thaxter | |