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Celia Thaxter

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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 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.

Celia Laighton Thaxter (June 29 1835August 25 1894) was an American writer of poetry and stories.

Quotes

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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,

  • 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)
  • 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.

    • "Rockweeds" in The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 21 (March 1868), p. 269
  • 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.

    • "Rockweeds" in The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 21 (March 1868), p. 269
  • Thou great Creator! Pardon us who reach
    For other heaven beyond this world of thine,
    This matchless world, where thy least touch doth teach
    Thy solemn lessons clearly, line on line.

    And help us to be grateful, we who live
    Such sordid, fretful lives of discontent,
    Nor see the sunshine nor the flower, nor strive
    To find the love thy bitter chastening meant.
    • "Before Sunrise", in Poems (1872)
  • 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 Nestling Swallows, in Drift-Weed (1878), p. 20
  • 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 Sunrise Never Failed Us Yet" in Drift-Weed (1878), p. 64
  • Already the dandelions
    Are changed into vanishing ghosts.
    • "Already" in Drift-Weed (1878), p. 103
  • 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.

    • "Already" in Drift-Weed (1878), p. 103
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