Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/163

Rh 'Tis she that from each transient pleasure

Extracts a lasting good;

'Tis she that finds, in summer, treasure

To serve for winter's food.

And when Youth's summer day is vanished,

And Age brings Winter's stress,

Her stores, with hoarded sweets replenished,

Life's evening hours will bless.

.

MY COMFORTER.

hast thou spoken, and yet, not taught

A feeling strange or new;

Thou hast but roused a latent thought,

A cloud-closed beam of sunshine, brought

To gleam in open view.

Deep down, concealed within my soul,

That light lies hid from men;

Yet glows unquenched—though shadows roll,

Its gentle ray cannot control,

About the sullen den.