Poems by Celia Thaxter
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May Morning
... And light green creeps the tender grass, thick-spreading far and near ...
The Spaniards' Graves
... One stands at their bleak graves whose eyes are wet ...
Seaward: To
... T is hard to breathe, nor can we find relief: ...
Dust
... That grants to the grapevine juice that can madden or cheer ...
Alone
... Her slender hand the flowers caressed, ...
Lars
... Caught at his throat, swift drawn through fire he seemed, ...
Regret
... While oer the calm sea, neath the soft gray sky ...
The Shag
... " O'er the beach, o'er the rocks, running swiftly, ...
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