| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 658. Song |
| | | By Celia Thaxter |
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| WE sail toward evening’s lonely star | |
| That trembles in the tender blue; | |
| One single cloud, a dusky bar, | |
| Burnt with dull carmine through and through, | |
| Slow smouldering in the summer sky, | 5 |
| Lies low along the fading west. | |
| How sweet to watch its splendors die, | |
| Wave-cradled thus and wind-caressed! | |
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| The soft breeze freshens, leaps the spray | |
| To kiss our cheeks, with sudden cheer; | 10 |
| Upon the dark edge of the bay | |
| Lighthouses kindle, far and near, | |
| And through the warm deeps of the sky | |
| Steal faint star-clusters, while we rest | |
| In deep refreshment, thou and I, | 15 |
| Wave-cradled thus and wind-caressed. | |
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| How like a dream are earth and heaven, | |
| Star-beam and darkness, sky and sea; | |
| Thy face, pale in the shadowy even, | |
| Thy quiet eyes that gaze on me! | 20 |
| O realize the moment’s charm, | |
| Thou dearest! we are at life’s best, | |
| Folded in God’s encircling arm, | |
| Wave-cradled thus and wind-caressed. | |
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