Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/137

Rh If thy love were like mine, how wild

Thy longings, even to pain,

For sunset soft, and moonlight mild,

To bring that hour again!

But oft, when in thine arms I lay,

I've seen thy dark eyes shine,

And deeply felt, their changeful ray

Spoke other love than mine.

My love is almost anguish now,

It beats so strong and true;

'Twere rapture, could I deem that thou

Such anguish ever knew.

I have been but thy transient flower,

Thou wert my god divine;

Till, checked by death's congealing power,

This heart must throb for thine.

And well my dying hour were blest,

If life's expiring breath

Should pass, as thy lips gently prest

My forehead, cold in death;

And sound my sleep would be, and sweet,

Beneath the churchyard tree,

If sometimes in thy heart should beat

One pulse, still true to me.

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