Frances (Charlotte Bronte Poem)
SHE will not sleep, for fear of dreams, But, rising, quits her restless bed, And walks where some beclouded beams ...
SHE will not sleep, for fear of dreams, But, rising, quits her restless bed, And walks where some beclouded beams ...
IF thou be in a lonely place, If one hour's calm be thine, As Evening bends her placid face O'er ...
I. THE GARDEN. ABOVE the city hung the moon, Right o'er a plot of ground Where flowers and orchard-trees were ...
SIT stilla worda breath may break (As light airs stir a sleeping lake,) The glassy calm that soothes my woes, ...
I've quenched my lamp, I struck it in that start Which every limb convulsed, I heard it fall The crash ...
SOME have won a wild delight, By daring wilder sorrow; Could I gain thy love to-night, I'd hazard death to-morrow. ...
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