Then 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!
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 Emily Jane Brontë, final stanza; Complete poem read in Academy publication marked public domain. Final six-line stanza retained, including religious hope and the reason for not wishing the deceased back into pain. Distinct from earlier selection On the Death of Anne Brontë.
- On the Death of Emily Jane Brontë, final stanza
More from Charlotte Brontë
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Unconquered, though she fell;
Charlotte BrontëHappiness quite unshared can scarcely be called happiness; it has no taste.
Charlotte BrontëThere'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.
Charlotte Brontë
Charlotte BrontëHappiness quite unshared can scarcely be called happiness; it has no taste.
Charlotte BrontëThere'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.
Charlotte BrontëMore inspiration
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