Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/72

62 Though haply Gilbert's secret deeds

Might other title claim.

Such theme not oft his mind absorbs,

He to the world clings fast,

And too much for the present lives,

To linger o'er the past.

But now the evening's deep repose

Has glided to his soul;

That moonlight falls on Memory,

And shows her fading scroll.

One name appears in every line

The gentle rays shine o'er,

And still he smiles and still repeats

That one name—Elinor.

There is no sorrow in his smile,

No kindness in his tone;

The triumph of a selfish heart

Speaks coldly there alone;

He says: "She loved me more than life;

And truly it was sweet

To see so fair a woman kneel,

In bondage, at my feet.

There was a sort of quiet bliss

To be so deeply loved,

To gaze on trembling eagerness

And sit myself unmoved.