Anne Brontë Poems
|44.||If This Be All||12/31/2002|
|45.||My Soul Is Awakened||1/3/2003|
|46.||Verses To A Child||12/31/2002|
|47.||Gloomily The Clouds||12/31/2002|
|48.||Call Me Away||12/31/2002|
|49.||The Doubter's Prayer||12/31/2002|
|52.||Monday Night May 11th 1846 / Domestic Peace||12/31/2002|
|53.||The Captive's Dream||12/31/2002|
|54.||Lines Composed In A Wood On A Windy Day||12/31/2002|
|56.||Oh, They Have Robbed Me Of The Hope||12/31/2002|
|57.||A Prisoner In A Dungeon Deep||12/31/2002|
|60.||The Captive Dove||12/31/2002|
|62.||In Memory Of A Happy Day In February||12/31/2002|
|63.||Alexander And Zenobia||12/31/2002|
|65.||A Voice From The Dungeon||12/31/2002|
While on my lonely couch I lie,
I seldom feel myself alone,
For fancy fills my dreaming eye
With scenes and pleasures of its own.
Then I may cherish at my breast
An infant's form beloved and fair,
May smile and soothe it into rest
With all a Mother's fondest care.
How sweet to feel its helpless form
Depending thus on me alone!
And while I hold it safe and warm
What bliss to think it is my own!
And glances then may meet my eyes
That daylight never showed to me;
What raptures in my bosom rise,
Those earnest looks of love to see, ...
I dreamt last night; and in that dream
My boyhood's heart was mine again;
These latter years did nothing seem
With all their mingled joy and pain,
Their thousand deeds of good and ill,
Their hopes which time did not fulfil,
Their glorious moments of success,
Their love that closed in bitterness,
Their hate that grew with growing strength,