By: Anne Bronte
Yes,
thou art gone! And never more
Thy sunny smile shall gladden me;
But
I may pass the old church door,
And
pace the floor that covers thee.
May
stand upon the cold, damp stone,
And
think that, frozen, lies below
The
lightest heart that I have known,
The
kindest I shall ever know.
Yet,
though I cannot see thee more,
‘Tis
still a comfort to have seen;
And
though thy transient life is o’er,
‘Tis
sweet to think that thou hast been;
To
think a soul so near divine,
Within
a form so angel fair,
United
to a heart like thine,
Has
gladdened once our humble sphere.
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