Celia Thaxter Quotes
1835–1894 United States
Celia Laighton Thaxter (June 29 1835 – August 25 1894) was an American writer of poetry and stories.
- United States
- 19th-century poets
- Authors
- Short story writers
Also known as: Thaxter, Celia
Random Celia Thaxter quote
9 quotes
The waves of Time may devastate our lives,
The frosts of age may check our failing breath,
They shall not touch the spirit that survives
Triumphant over doubt and pain and death.
Across the narrow beach we flit,
One little sand-piper and I;
And fast I gather, bit by bit.
The scattered driftwood, bleached and dry.
The Sand-piper (1862)
Already the dandelions
Are changed into vanishing ghosts.
O brief, bright smile of summer!
O days divine and dear
The voices of winter's sorrow
Already we can hear. And we know that the frosts will find us,
And the smiling skies grow rude,
While we look in the face of Beauty,
And worship her every mood.
Dear little head, that lies in calm content
Within the gracious hollow that God made
In every human shoulder, where He meant
Some tired head for comfort should be laid.
What though our eyes with tears be wet?
The sunrise never failed us yet. The blush of dawn may yet restore
Our light and hope and joy once more.
Sad soul, take comfort, nor forget
That sunrise never failed us yet!
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 and the trouble stopped.
The heart of God through his creation stirs,
We thrill to feel it, trembling as the flowers
That die to live again, — his messengers,
To keep faith firm in these sad souls of ours. The waves of Time may devastate our lives,
The frosts of age may check our failing breath,
They shall not touch the spirit that survives
Triumphant over doubt and pain and death.
The barren island dreams in flowers, while blow
The south winds, drawing haze o'er sea and land;
Yet the great heart of ocean, throbbing slow,
Makes the frail blossoms vibrate where they stand; And hints of heavier pulses soon to shake
Its mighty breast when summer is no more,
And devastating waves sweep on and break,
And clasp with girdle white the iron shore.