Charlotte Brontë Poems
|2.||The Wife's Will||5/10/2001|
|9.||The Teacher's Monologue||5/10/2001|
|10.||Pilate's Wife's Dream||5/10/2001|
|13.||Speak Of The North! A Lonely Moor||12/31/2002|
|21.||On The Death Of Anne Brontë||5/10/2001|
Comments about Charlotte Brontë
THERE'S no use in weeping,
Though we are condemned to part:
There's such a thing as keeping
A remembrance in one's heart:
There's such a thing as dwelling
On the thought ourselves have nurs'd,
And with scorn and courage telling
The world to do its worst.
We'll not let its follies grieve us,
We'll just take them as they come;
And then every day will leave us
A merry laugh for home.
When we've left each friend and brother,
When we're parted wide and far,
We will think of one another,
As even better than we are.
WE take from life one little share,
And say that this shall be
A space, redeemed from toil and care,
From tears and sadness free.
And, haply, Death unstrings his bow
And Sorrow stands apart,
And, for a little while, we know
The sunshine of the heart.