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 beloved 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.
On The Death Of Anne Brontë
Charlotte Bronte
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Poem topics: alone, breath, cloud, death, god, heart, hope, joy, lost, shade, grave, save, watch, strife, life, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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