Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/62

52 The tear which, welling from the heart,

Burns where its drop corrosive falls,

And makes each nerve, in torture, start,

At feelings it too well recalls:

When the sweet hope of being loved,

Threw Eden sunshine on life's way:

When every sense and feeling proved

Expectancy of brightest day.

When the hand trembled to receive

A thrilling clasp, which seemed so near,

And the heart ventured to believe,

Another heart esteemed it dear.

When words, half love, all tenderness,

Were hourly heard, as hourly spoken,

When the long, sunny days of bliss,

Only by moonlight nights were broken.

Till drop by drop, the cup of joy

Filled full, with purple light, was glowing,

And Faith, which watched it, sparkling high,

Still never dreamt the overflowing.

It fell not with a sudden crashing,

It poured not out like open sluice;

No, sparkling still, and redly flashing,

Drained, drop by drop, the generous juice.