"The human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence
sealed;--
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms
were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in
rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,
The memory of
the Past may die.
But there are hours of lonely musing,
Such as in
evening silence come,
When, soft as birds their pinions closing,
The
heart's best feelings gather home.
Then in our souls there seems to
languish
A tender grief that is not woe;
And thoughts that once wrung
groans of anguish
Now cause but some mild tears to flow.
And it can
dwell on moonlight glimmer,
On evening shade and loneliness;
And, while
the sky grows dim and dimmer,
Feel no untold and strange distress--
Only a
deeper impulse given
By lonely hour and darkened room,
To solemn thoughts
that soar to heaven
Seeking a life and world to come."
-Charlotte Bronte
No comments:
Post a Comment