On The Death Of Anne Bronte

by Charlotte Bronte

　　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 beloved 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.