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 belovèd 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.
Where these words come from
- 95% sureThese words were traced back to where they first appeared. That source is listed below.
- On the Death of Anne Brontë; Complete public-domain sixteen-line elegy, read in full via Poetry Foundation web result; direct HTTP access blocked. Charlotte mourns Anne, who is the subject, not the author. Full poem retains the relationship between relief at the end of suffering and the grief of sur
- On the Death of Anne Brontë
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Charlotte BrontëHappiness quite unshared can scarcely be called happiness; it has no taste.
Charlotte BrontëThen since thou art spared such pain
We will not wish thee here again;
He that lives must mourn.
God help us through our misery
And give us rest and joy with thee
When we reach our bourne!
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