Anne Bronte

Lines Written at Thorp Green

That summer sun, whose genial glow Now cheers my drooping spirit so Must cold and distant be, And only light our northern clime With feeble ray, before the time I long so much to

Appeal

Oh, I am very weary, Though tears no longer flow; My eyes are tires of weeping, My heart is sick of woe; My life is very lonely, My days pass heavily, I’m wearing of

Confidence

Oppressed with sin and woe, A burdened heart I bear, Opposed by many a mighty foe: But I will not despair. With this polluted heart I dare to come to Thee, Holy and mighty

The Captive Dove

Poor restless dove, I pity thee; And when I hear thy plaintive moan, I mourn for thy captivity, And in thy woes forget mine own. To see thee stand prepared to fly, And flap

Memory

Brightly the sun of summer shone, Green fields and waving woods upon, And soft winds wandered by; Above, a sky of purest blue, Around, bright flowers of loveliest hue, Allured the gazer’s eye. But

Song 2

Come to the banquet triumph in your songs! Strike up the chords and sing of Victory! The oppressed have risen to redress their wrongs; The Tyrants are o’erthrown; the Land is free! The Land

Fluctuations

What though the sun had left my sky; To save me from despair The blessed moon arose on high, And shone serenely there. I watched her, with a tearful gaze, Rise slowly o’er the

A Hymn

Eternal power of earth and air, Unseen, yet seen in all around, Remote, but dwelling everywhere, Though silent, heard in every sound. If e’er thine ear in mercy bent When wretched mortals cried to

Night

I love the silent hour of night, For blissful dreams may then arise, Revealing to my charmed sight What may not bless my waking eyes! And then a voice may meet my ear That

Power of Love

Love, indeed thy strength is mighty Thus, alone, such strife to bear Three ‘gainst one, and never ceasing Death, and Madness, and Despair! ‘Tis not my own strength has saved me; Health, and hope,

Farewell

Farewell to thee! but not farewell To all my fondest thoughts of thee: Within my heart they still shall dwell; And they shall cheer and comfort me. O, beautiful, and full of grace! If

The North Wind

That wind is from the North, I know it well; No other breeze could have so wild a swell. Now deep and loud it thunders round my cell, The faintly dies, And softly sighs,

A Voice From The Dungeon

I’m buried now; I’ve done with life; I’ve done with hate, revenge and strife; I’ve done with joy, and hope and love And all the bustling world above. Long have I dwelt forgotten here

Stanzas

Oh, weep not, love! each tear that springs In those dear eyes of thine, To me a keener suffering brings, Than if they flowed from mine. And do not droop! however drear The fate

Self Communion

‘The mist is resting on the hill; The smoke is hanging in the air; The very clouds are standing still: A breathless calm broods everywhere. Thou pilgrim through this vale of tears, Thou, too,
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