Here you will find the Poem Land-Locked of poet Celia Thaxter
Black lie the hills; swiftly doth daylight flee; And, catching gleams of sunset's dying smile, Through the dusk land for many a changing mile The river runneth softly to the sea. O happy river, could I follow thee! O yearning heart, that never can be still! O wistful eyes, that watch the steadfast hill, Longing for level line of solemn sea! Have patience; here are flowers and songs of birds, Beauty and fragrance, wealth of sound and sight, All summer's glory thine from morn till night, And life too full of joy for uttered words. Neither am I ungrateful; but I dream Deliciously how twilight falls to-night Over the glimmering water, how the light Dies blissfully away, until I seem To feel the wind, sea-scented, on my cheek, To catch the sound of dusky flapping sail And dip of oars, and voices on the gale Afar off, calling low, -- my name they speak! O Earth! Thy summer song of joy may soar Ringing to heaven in triumph. I but crave The sad, caressing murmur of the wave That breaks in tender music on the shore.