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To --------

Anne Brontë 1820 (Thornton, West Yorkshire) – 1849 (Scarborough, North Yorkshire)

I will not mourn thee, lovely one,
  Though thou art torn away.
'Tis said that if the morning sun
  Arise with dazzling ray
And shed a bright and burning beam
  Athwart the glittering main,
'Ere noon shall fade that laughing gleam
  Engulfed in clouds and rain.

And if thy life as transient proved,
  It hath been full as bright,
For thou wert hopeful and beloved;
  Thy spirit knew no blight.

If few and short the joys of life
  That thou on earth couldst know,
Little thou knew'st of sin and strife
  Nor much of pain and woe.

If vain thy earthly hopes did prove,
  Thou canst not mourn their flight;
Thy brightest hopes were fixed above
  And they shall know no blight.

And yet I cannot check my sighs,
  Thou wert so young and fair,
More bright than summer morning skies,
  But stern death would not spare;

He would not pass our darling by
  Nor grant one hour's delay,
But rudely closed his shining eye
  And frowned his smile away,

That angel smile that late so much
  Could my fond heart rejoice;
And he has silenced by his touch
  The music of thy voice.

I'll weep no more thine early doom,
  But O! I still must mourn
The pleasures buried in thy tomb,
  For they will not return.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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Anne Brontë

Anne Brontë was a British novelist and poet, the youngest member of the Brontë literary family. more…

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