Once 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 ThaxterThe eternal sound of the sea on every side has a tendency to wear away the edge of human thought and perception.
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 Thaxter