Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/37

Rh 'Tis but the frost that clears the air,

And gives the sky that lovely blue;

They're smiling in a winter's sun,

Those evergreens of sombre hue.

And winter's chill is on my heart—

How can I dream of future bliss?

How can my spirit soar away,

Confined by such a chain as this?

HOME.

brightly glistening in the sun

The woodland ivy plays!

While yonder beeches from their barks

Reflect his silver rays.

That sun surveys a lovely scene

From softly smiling skies;

And wildly through unnumbered trees

The wind of winter sighs:

Now loud, it thunders o'er my head,

And now in distance dies.

But give me back my barren hills

Where colder breezes rise;