![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXKzM4pC8_OB7L6nOR8xW-7psDSVmuEkK64aZqp86J_H-Aibpg1scqtAYmWqP3YThhqixH5a5wqCKBuvep4ejXfrV9_3plfXKtgtHdFLtjZQtuciOdShvSClZrbaXGhp_tlvT2qVUNDs/s1600/winterstores.jpg)
We take from life one little share,
And say that this shall be
A space, redeemed from toil and care,
From tears and sadness free.
And, haply, Death unstrings his bow,
And Sorrow stands apart,
And, for a little while, we know
The sunshine of the heart.
Existence seems a summer eve,
Warm, soft, and full of peace,
Our free, unfettered feelings give
The soul its full release.
A moment, then, it takes the power
To call up thoughts that throw
Around that charmed and hallowed hour,
This life’s divinest glow.
- Charlotte Brontë
No comments:
Post a Comment