Poem by Anne Brontë

* * *

Oh, they have robbed me of the hope
My spirit held so dear;
They will not let me hear that voice
My soul delights to hear.
They will not let me see that face
I so delight to see;
And they have taken all thy smiles,
And all thy love from me.

Well, let them seize on all they can: --
One treasure still is mine, --
A heart that loves to think on thee,
And feels the worth of thine. 

1. Verses by Lady Geralda
2. Severed and Gone, So Many Years!
3. Lines Written at Thorp Green
4. Verses to a Child
5. In Memory of a Happy Day in February

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