On The Death
of Anne Brontė There's little joy in
life for me,
And little terror in the grave;
I 've lived the parting hour to see
Of one I would have died to save.
Calmly to watch
the failing breath,
Wishing each sigh might be the last;
Longing to see the shade of death
O'er those belov'd features cast.
The cloud, the
stillness that must part
The darling of my life from me;
And then to thank God from my heart,
To thank Him well and fervently;
Although I knew
that we had lost
The hope and glory of our life;
And now, benighted, tempest-tossed,
Must bear alone the weary strife.

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