There's little joy in life for me,
And little terror in the grave;
I've lived the parting hour to see
Of one I would have died to save.
Calmly to watch the failing breath,
Wishing each sigh might be the last;
Longing to see the shade of death
O'er those belovčd features cast.
The cloud, the stillness that must part
The darling of my life from me;
And then to thank God from my heart,
To thank Him well and fervently;
Although I knew that we had lost
The hope and glory of our life;
And now, benighted, tempest-tossed,
Must bear alone the weary strife.
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Comments
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All three Bronte sisters died quite young, as did their brother Bramwell, very tragic.
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I don't think this was really for her sister but more so for herself on the perception and the emotional out-pour that she had to contend with on the death of her sister.
A good piece that Anne Brontė has written here.
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