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 ThaxterLook to the East, where up the lucid sky; the morning climbs! The day shall yet be fair.
Celia ThaxterWhen in these fresh mornings I go into my garden before any one is awake, I go for the time being into perfect happiness.
Celia ThaxterOnce more their weird laughter of the loons comes to my ear, the distance lends it a musical, melancholy sound. For a dangerous ledge off the lighthouse island floats in on the still air the gentle trolling of a warning bell as it swings on the rocking buoy; it might be tolling for the passing of summer and sweet weather with that persistent, pensive chime.
Celia Thaxter