Power of Love
Love, indeed thy strength is
Thus, alone, such strife to bear —Three 'gainst one, and never ceasing —Death, and Madness, and Despair! 'Tis not my own strength has saved me;
Health, and hope, and fortitude,
But for love, had long since failed me;
Heart and soul had sunk subdued.
Often, in my wild impatience,
I have lost my trust in Heaven,
And my soul has tossed and struggled,
Like a vessel tempest-driven;
But the voice of my
In my ear has seemed to say —'O, be patient if thou lov'st me!'And the storm has passed away.
When outworn with weary thinking,
Sight and thought were waxing dim,
And my mind began to wander,
And my brain began to swim,
Then those hands outstretched to save
Seemed to call me back again —Those dark eyes did so implore
To resume my reason's reign,
That I could not but
How her hopes were fixed on me,
And, with one determined effort,
Rose, and shook my spirit free.
When hope leaves my weary spirit —All the power to hold it gone —That loved voice so loudly prays me,'For my sake, keep hoping on,'That, at once my strength renewing,
Though Despair had crushed me down,
I can burst his bonds asunder,
And defy his deadliest frown.
When, from nights of restless tossing,
Days of gloom and pining care,
Pain and weakness, still increasing,
Seem to whisper 'Death is near,'And I almost bid him welcome,
Knowing he would bring release,
Weary of this restless struggle —Longing to repose in peace,
Then a glance of fond
Bids such selfish longings
And a voice of matchless
Murmurs 'Cherish life for me!'Roused to newborn strength and courage,
Pain and grief,
I cast away,
Health and life,
I keenly follow,
Mighty Death is held at bay.
Yes, my love,
I will be patient!
Firm and bold my heart shall be:
Fear not — though this life is dreary,
I can bear it well for thee.
Let our foes still rain upon
Cruel wrongs and taunting scorn;'Tis for thee their hate pursues me,
And for thee, it shall be borne!
Anne Bronte
Other author posts
Lines inscribed on the wall of a dungeon in the southern p of i
Though not a breath can enter here, I know the wind blows fresh and free; I know the sun is shining clear, Though not a gleam can visit me
Verses to a Child
1 O raise those eyes to me And smile again so joyously, And fear not, love; it was not Nor grief that drew these tears from me;
Night
I love the silent hour of night, For blissful dreams may then arise, Revealing to my charmed sight What may not bless my waking eyes And then a voice may meet my ear,
The Students Serenade
I have slept upon my couch, But my spirit did not rest, For the labours of the Yet my weary soul opprest;