Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/110

Rh PRESENTIMENT.

", you've sat there all the day,

Come to the hearth awhile;

The wind so wildly sweeps away,

The clouds so darkly pile.

That open book has lain, unread,

For hours upon your knee;

You've never smiled nor turned your head

What can you, sister, see?"

"Come hither, Jane, look down the field;

How dense a mist creeps on!

The path, the hedge, are both concealed,

Ev'n the white gate is gone;

No landscape through the fog I trace,

No hill with pastures green;

All featureless is nature's face,

All masked in clouds her mien.

"Scarce is the rustle of a leaf

Heard in our garden now;

The year grows old, its days wax brief,

The tresses leave its brow.

The rain drives fast before the wind,

The sky is blank and grey;

O Jane, what sadness fills the mind

On such a dreary day!"