Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/145

Rh But gleams of light may reach us here;

And hope the roughest path can cheer:

Then do not bid it fly!

Though hope may promise joys, that still

Unkindly time will ne'er fulfil;

Or, if they come at all,

We never find them unalloyed,—

Hurtful perchance, or soon destroyed,

They vanish or they pall;

Yet hope itself a brightness throws

O'er all our labours and our woes;

While dark foreboding Care

A thousand ills will oft portend,

That Providence may ne'er intend

The trembling heart to bear.

Or if they come, it oft appears,

Our woes are lighter than our fears,

And far more bravely borne.

Then let us not enhance our doom;

But e'en in midnight's blackest gloom

Expect the rising morn.

Because the road is rough and long,

Shall we despise the skylark's song,

That cheers the wanderer's way?