Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/164

154 Was I not vexed, in these gloomy ways

To walk alone so long?

Around me, wretches uttering praise,

Or howling o'er their hopeless days,

And each with Frenzy's tongue;—

A brotherhood of misery,

Their smiles as sad as sighs;

Whose madness daily maddened me,

Distorting into agony

The bliss before my eyes!

So stood I, in Heaven's glorious sun,

And in the glare of Hell;

My spirit drank a mingled tone,

Of seraph's song, and demon's moan;

What my soul bore, my soul alone

Within itself may tell!

Like a soft air, above a sea,

Tossed by the tempest's stir;

A thaw-wind, melting quietly

The snow-drift, on some wintry lea;

No: what sweet thing resembles thee,

My thoughtful Comforter?

And yet a little longer speak,

Calm this resentful mood;