Anne Brontë

(7 January 1820 – 28 May 1849 / Thornton, West Riding of Yorkshire, England)

A Fragment


'Maiden, thou wert thoughtless once
Of beauty or of grace,
Simple and homely in attire
Careless of form and face.
Then whence this change, and why so oft
Dost smooth thy hazel hair?
And wherefore deck thy youthful form
With such unwearied care?
'Tell us ­- and cease to tire our ears
With yonder hackneyed strain ­-
Why wilt thou play those simple tunes
So often o'er again?'
'Nay, gentle friends, I can but say
That childhood's thoughts are gone.
Each year its own new feelings brings
And years move swiftly on,

And for these little simple airs,
I love to play them o'er ­-
So much I dare not promise now
To play them never more.'
I answered and it was enough;
They turned them to depart;
They could not read my secret thoughts
Nor see my throbbing heart.

I've noticed many a youthful form
Upon whose changeful face
The inmost workings of the soul
The gazer's eye might trace.
The speaking eye, the changing lip,
The ready blushing cheek,
The smiling or beclouded brow
Their different feelings speak.

But, thank God! you might gaze on mine
For hours and never know
The secret changes of my soul
From joy to bitter woe.
Last night, as we sat round the fire
Conversing merrily,
We heard without approaching steps
Of one well known to me.

There was no trembling in my voice,
No blush upon my cheek,
No lustrous sparkle in my eyes,
Of hope or joy to speak;
But O my spirit burned within,
My heart beat thick and fast.
He came not nigh ­- he went away
And then my joy was past.

And yet my comrades marked it not,
My voice was still the same;
They saw me smile, and o'er my face ­-
No signs of sadness came;
They little knew my hidden thoughts
And they will never know
The anguish of my drooping heart,
The bitter aching woe!

Olivia Vernon.

Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read poems about / on: joy, childhood, change, hair, smile, beauty, fire, hope, heart, god, night, thanks, friend

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Fragment by Anne Brontë )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Stations, Holly Moon
  2. Happiness, Holly Moon
  3. Memories Of You, Holly Moon
  4. Counting waves, Trong Phan
  5. I Remember When, Holly Moon
  6. Two Hearts Belong Together, Holly Moon
  7. Sensible Me, Holly Moon
  8. Wishing And Wishing, Holly Moon
  9. My Heart Is Breaking, Holly Moon
  10. Love Is A Gift, Holly Moon

Poem of the Day

poet John Clare

I love to see the old heath's withered brake
Mingle its crimpled leaves with furze and ling,
While the old heron from the lonely lake
Starts slow and flaps its melancholy wing,
...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet Grace Paley

 

Trending Poems

  1. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  2. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  3. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  4. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  5. If, Rudyard Kipling
  6. Invictus, William Ernest Henley
  7. Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
  8. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  9. The Pasture, Robert Frost
  10. Dreams, Langston Hughes

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]