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Celia Thaxter

  • ... there shall be / Eternal summer in the grateful heart.

    • Celia Thaxter,
    • "A Grateful Heart," Poems ()
  • No sadder sound salutes you than the clear, / Wild laughter of the loon.

    • Celia Thaxter,
    • "Seaward," Poems ()
  • O happy, happy morning! O dear, familiar place! / O warm, sweet tears of Heaven, fast falling on my face! / O well-remembered, rainy wind, blow all my care away, / That I may be a child again this blissful morn of May.

    • Celia Thaxter,
    • "May Morning," Poems ()
  • Sad soul, take comfort, nor forget / that sunrise never failed us yet!

    • Celia Thaxter,
    • "The Sunrise Never Failed Us Yet," Poems ()
  • The eternal sound of the sea on every side has a tendency to wear away the edge of human thought and perception ...

  • Coming back in the sunshine, the morning-glories would lift up their faces, all awake, to my adoring gaze ... It seems as if they had gathered the peace of the golden morning in their still depths even as my heart had gathered it.

  • As I work among my flowers, I find myself talking to them, reasoning and remonstrating with them, and adoring them as if they were human beings. Much laughter I provoke among my friends by so doing, but that is of no consequence. We are on such good terms, my flowers and I.

  • Last week, when I went early into my garden, a rose-breasted grosbeak was sitting on the fence. Oh, he was beautiful as a flower. I hardly dared to breathe, I did not stir, and we gazed at each other fully five minutes before he concluded to move.

    • Celia Thaxter,
    • in Annie Fields and Rose Lamb, eds., Letters of Celia Thaxter ()
  • If death were the exception and not the rule, and we were not so swiftly to follow, these separations would be intolerably sad. We know no more of our next change of life than we knew of this before we were born into it; but that which we call death is merely change, who can doubt?

    • Celia Thaxter,
    • in Annie Fields and Rose Lamb, eds., Letters of Celia Thaxter ()
  • Oh, I never meant, in my old age, to become subject to the thrall of a love like this; it is almost dreadful, so absorbing, so stirring down to the deeps. For the tiny creature is so old and wise and sweet, and so fascinating in his sturdy common sense and clear intelligence; and his affection for me is a wonderful, exquisite thing, the sweetest flower that has bloomed for me in all my life through.

    • Celia Thaxter,
    • in Annie Fields, Authors and Friends ()

Celia Thaxter, U.S. poet, garden writer

(1836 - 1894)

Full name: Celia Laighton Thaxter.