Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/111

Rh "You think too much, my sister dear;

You sit too long alone;

What though November days be drear?

Full soon will they be gone.

I've swept the hearth, and placed your chair,

Come, Emma, sit by me;

Our own fireside is never drear,

Though late and wintry wane the year,

Though rough the night may be."

"The peaceful glow of our fireside

Imparts no peace to me:

My thoughts would rather wander wide

Than rest, dear Jane, with thee.

I'm on a distant journey bound,

And if, about my heart,

Too closely kindred ties were boundwound [sic],

'T would break when forced to part.

"'Soon will November days be o'er:'

Well have you spoken, Jane:

My own forebodings tell me more,

For me, I know by presage sure,

They'll ne'er return again.

Ere long, nor sun nor storm to me

Will bring or joy or gloom;

They reach not that Eternity

Which soon will be my home."