Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/121

Rh They weep, you weep, it must be so;

Winds sigh as you are sighing,

And Winter sheds his grief in snow

Where Autumn's leaves are lying:

Yet, these revive, and from their fate

Your fate cannot be parted:

Then, journey on, if not elate,

Still, never broken-hearted!

.

PAST DAYS.

strange to think, there was a time

When mirth was not an empty name,

When laughter really cheered the heart,

And frequent smiles unbidden came,

And tears of grief would only flow

In sympathy for others' woe;

When speech expressed the inward thought,

And heart to kindred heart was bare,

And Summer days were far too short

For all the pleasures crowded there,

And silence, solitude, and rest,

Now welcome to the weary breast—