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More from Celia Thaxter

  1. The summer day was spoiled with fitful storm; At night the wind died and the soft rain dropped; With lulling murmur, and the air was warm, And all the tumult a…

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  2. Already the dandelions Are changed into vanishing ghosts.

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  3. Across the narrow beach we flit, One little sand-piper and I;

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