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Poem by Anne Brontë


Dreams


While on my lonely couch I lie,
I seldom feel myself alone,
For fancy fills my dreaming eye
With scenes and pleasures of its own.
Then I may cherish at my breast
An infant's form beloved and fair,
May smile and soothe it into rest
With all a Mother's fondest care.

How sweet to feel its helpless form
Depending thus on me alone!
And while I hold it safe and warm
What bliss to think it is my own!

And glances then may meet my eyes
That daylight never showed to me;
What raptures in my bosom rise,
Those earnest looks of love to see,

To feel my hand so kindly prest,
To know myself beloved at last,
To think my heart has found a rest,
My life of solitude is past!

But then to wake and find it flown,
The dream of happiness destroyed,
To find myself unloved, alone,
What tongue can speak the dreary void?

A heart whence warm affections flow,
Creator, thou hast given to me,
And am I only thus to know
How sweet the joys of love would be? 



Anne Brontë


Anne Brontë's other poems:
  1. A Word To The Calvinists
  2. Despondency
  3. Lines Written From Home
  4. Past Days
  5. In Memory of a Happy Day in February


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • John Dryden Dreams ("Dreams are but interludes which Fancy makes")
  • Robert Herrick Dreams ("Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd")
  • John Newman Dreams ("OH! miserable power")
  • Caroline Norton Dreams ("SURELY I heard a voice-surely my name")
  • Robert Service Dreams ("I had a dream, a dream of dread")
  • Edgar Poe Dreams ("Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!")
  • Amy Lowell Dreams ("I do not care to talk to you although")
  • Henry Timrod Dreams ("Who first said "false as dreams?" Not one who saw")

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