Guests

Isle of Shoals Garden/Childe Hassam

Sunflower tall and hollyhock, that wave in the 
wind together,
Corn-flower, poppy, and marigold, blossoming
fair and fine,
Delicate sweet-peas, glowing bright in the quiet 
autumn weather,
While over the fence, on fire with bloom,
climbs the nasturtium vine!

Quaint little wilderness of flowers, straggling 
hither and thither -
morning-glories tangled about the larkspur
gone to seed,
Scarlet runners that burst all bounds, and wan- 
der, heaven knows whither,
And lilac spikes of bergamot, as thick as any
weed.

And oh, the bees and the butterflies, the hum- 
ming-birds and sparrows,
That over the garden waver and chirp and
flutter the livelong day!
Humming-birds, that dart in the sun like green 
and golden arrows,
Butterflies like loosened flowers blown off by 
the wind in play.

Look at the red nasturtium flower, drooping, 
bending, and swaying;
Out the gold-banded humble-bee breaks and
goes booming anew!
Hark, what the sweet-voiced fledgling sparrows 
low to themselves are saying,
Pecking my golden oats where the corn-flowers 
gleam so blue!

Welcome, a thousand times welcome, ye dear 
and delicate neighbors -
Bird and bee and butterfly, and humming-bird
fairy fine!
Proud am I to offer you a field for your grace- 
ful labors;
All the honey and all the seeds are yours in
this garden of mine.

I sit on the door-step and watch you. Beyond 
lies the infinite ocean,
Sparkling, shimmering, whispering, rocking itself
to rest;
And the world is full of perfume and color and 
beautiful motion,
And each new hour of this sweet day the
happiest seems and best. 

Celia Thaxter 

The Sandpiper

Childe Hassam

Across the lonely beach we flit, 
One little sandpiper and I, 
And fast I gather, but 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? 

Celia Thaxter