Anne Brontë

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


Poem by Anne Brontë

I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight
What may not bless my waking eyes!
And then a voice may meet my ear
That death has silenced long ago;
And hope and rapture may appear
Instead of solitude and woe.

Cold in the grave for years has lain
The form it was my bliss to see,
And only dreams can bring again
The darling of my heart to me.

Comments about Night by Anne Brontë

  • Henk Schaap (3/22/2008 11:33:00 AM)

    This wonderful poem is set on music and performed live on radio by Peter Fernay and is the Title of his CD 'Night.
    Radio Live performance on Youtube search for: Peter Fernay


    3 person liked.
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Read poems about / on: solitude, hope, death, night, heart, love, dream

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002