Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/102

92 And, could we lift the veil, and give

One brief glimpse to thine eye,

Thou wouldst rejoice for those that live,

Because they live to die."

The music ceased; the noonday dream,

Like dream of night, withdrew;

But Fancy, still, will sometimes deem

Her fond creation true.

.

TO COWPER.

are thy strains, celestial Bard;

And oft, in childhood's years,

I've read them o'er and o'er again,

With floods of silent tears.

The language of my inmost heart,

I traced in every line;

My sins, my sorrows, hopes, and fears,

Were there—and only mine.

All for myself the sigh would swell,

The tear of auguish start;