Christmas at Plum Island, 1843

I found this story and poem a few years ago when I was doing some research on lighthouses along the northeast coast, and thought I'd share it here. I love the ocean in winter ~ in fact, it's my favorite time at the beach ~ and I find this poem has a hauntingly beautiful quality, even though I'm sure many would find it sad. For me, I can picture the sound of the ocean, the millions of stars overhead in the night sky, the scent and feel of the brisk, salt air, and the peacefulness of being alone with God and the angels on such a wonderful, special night.

* * * * *

"The following is a poem written by Sarah D. Bowditch at Plum Island in 1843. We do not yet know whether Sarah lived in the lighthouse, or on one of the farms on the island, but her words give us an insight into the type of the lonely life at a secluded light station."

Christmas --1843

Amid the world's gay throngs to-night,
There's mirth and festive glee;
But none amid those hearts so light
Will cast one glimpse on me.

No ray from Hope's bright star is cast
To this lone isle of the sea;
And lonely and sad the Christmas has passed,
And left no mirth for me.

There's many a friend that once caressed,
As merry as merry can be;
But, ah! the one that I love best
Will forget to think of me.

Then turn my soul away from earth;
Look upward still, and see
The stars that shine on the halls of mirth
As brightly beam on thee.

Then let me not murmur at my fate,
Though lonely and sad I may be,
For the angels whose birth we celebrate,
Brought "tidings of joy" to me.

~ Sarah D. Bowditch

(Image: All-Posters.com)