Letters of Celia Thaxter

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1895 - 232 páginas
 

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Página xviii - I GIVE you the end of a golden string, Only wind it into a ball; It will lead you in at Heaven's gate Built in Jerusalem's wall.
Página 41 - That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over. Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!
Página xxiii - I remember in the spring kneeling on the ground to seek the first blades of grass that pricked through the soil, and bringing them into the house to study and wonder over. Better than a shop full of toys they were to me ! Whence came their color? How did they draw their sweet, refreshing tint from the brown earth, or the limpid air, or the white light ? Chemistry was not at hand to answer me, and all her wisdom would not have dispelled the wonder.
Página 88 - Fields: There is no comfort for us anywhere except by the gradual hand of time. The "consolations of religion" I cannot bear. I can bear my anguish better than their emptiness, though I am crushed breathless by my sorrow. It seems as if I could never fill my lungs with air again, as if I never wished to look upon the light of day.27 The scar remained till death.
Página xiv - O yeanling heart, that never can be still ! O wistful eyes, that watch the steadfast hill, Longing for level line of solemn sea ! Have patience ; here are flowers and songs of birds, Beauty and fragrance, wealth of sound and sight, All summer's glory thine from morn till night, And life too...
Página 187 - granna,' who worships the ground he walks on, and counted every beat of his quick-fluttering little heart. 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...
Página 221 - Brown's new pictures, and then she laid her down to sleep for the last time, and flitted away from her mortality. The burial was at her island, on a quiet afternoon in the late summer. Her parlor, in which the body lay, was again made radiant, after her own custom, with the flowers from her garden, and a bed of sweet bay was prepared by her friends Appleton Brown and Childe Hassam, on which her form was laid. William Mason once more played the music from Schumann which she chiefly loved...
Página xiv - Over the glimmering water, how the light Dies blissfully away, until I seem To feel the wind sea-scented on my cheek, To catch the sound of dusky flapping sail And dip of oars, and voices on the gale Afar off, calling low; — my name they speak!
Página xiv - LAND-LOCKED. Black lie the hills; swiftly doth daylight flee; And, catching gleams of sunset's dying smile, Through the dusk land for many a changing mile The river runneth softly to the sea. O happy river, could I follow thee! O yearning heart, that never can be still! O wistful eyes, that watch the steadfast hill, Longing for level line of solemn sea! Have...
Página xii - ... to the wild fisher folk on the adjacent island called Star. The exuberant joy of her unformed maidenhood, with its power of self-direction, attracted the shy, intellectual student nature of Mr. Thaxter. He could not dream that this careless, happy creature possessed the strength and sweep of wing which belonged to her own sea-gull.

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