At the Water's Edge

Sarah Orne Jewett (1849–1909) lived most of her life in South Berwick, Maine, and is known for the local color and sense of place she brought to her writing. When I composed At the Water’s Edge, I lived just down the road from South Berwick in Kittery, Maine, where much of the landscape Jewett references was still relatively unchanged. Setting four poems by Jewett, this work celebrates the local landscape of the Seacoast region of New England and the interconnectedness of human life and the natural world in a region sculpted by tidal rivers on their slow and certain path towards the sea.

I. Top of the Hill
I love the steepled town,
The river winding down,
The slow salt tide that creeps
Beside a shore that sleeps,
Dark with its pine woods’ crown.

Here, high above them all
Upon my broad-backed hill,
Far from shrill voices I,
And near the sun and sky,
Can look and take my fill.

I breathe the sweet air in,
While lower drops the sun,
And brighter all too soon
Grows the pale hunter’s moon,
The whole year’s fairest one.

Oh, lovely light that fades
Too soon from sky and field,
Oh, days that are too few,
How can I gather you,
Or treasure what you yield!

Oh, sunshine, warm me through,
And, soft wind, blow away
My foolishness, my fears,
And let some golden years
Grow from this golden day!

II. Boat Song
Oh, rest your oars and let me drift
While all the stars come out to see!
The birds are talking in their sleep
As we go by so silently.
The idle winds are in the pines;
The ripples touch against the shore.
Oh, rest your oars and let me drift,
And let me dream forevermore!

The sweet wild roses hear and wake,
And send their fragrance through the air;
The hills are hiding in the dark,
There is no hurry anywhere.
The shadows close around the boat,
Ah, why should we go back to shore!
So rest your oars, and we will float
Without a care forevermore.

Oh, little waves that plash and call,
How fast you lead us out of sight!
And we must follow where you go
This strange and sweet midsummer night;
The quiet river reaches far—
The darkness covers all the shore;
With idle oars we downward float
In starlight dim forevermore.

III. In Restless Waves
God bless them all who die at sea!
If they must sleep in restless waves
Oh, make them dream they are ashore,
With grass above their graves.

IV. The Eagle Trees
Great pines that watch the river go
Down to the sea all night, all day,
Firm-rooted near its ebb and flow,
Bowing their heads to winds at play,
Strong-limbed and proud, they silent stand,
And watch the mountains far away,
And watch the miles of farming land,
And hear the church bells tolling slow.

They see the men in distant fields
Follow the furrows of the plough;
They count the loads the harvest yields,
And fight the storms with every bough,
Beating the wild winds back again.
The April sunshine cheers them now;
They eager drink the warm spring rain,
Nor dread the spear the lightning wields.

Companionship of birds and trees!
The years have proved your friendship strong,
We share each other’s memories,
The river’s secret and its song.

High in the branches clings the nest
The great birds build from year to year;
And though they fly from east to west,
Some instinct keeps this eyrie dear
To their fierce hearts; and now their eyes
Glare down at me with rage and fear;
They stare at me with wild surprise,
Where high in air they strong-winged rest.

Companionship of birds and trees!
The years have proved your friendship strong,
We share each other’s memories,
The river’s secret and its song.