Night by Anne Brontë

I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight
What may not bless my waking eyes!
And then a voice may meet my ear
That death has silenced long ago;
And hope and rapture may appear
Instead of solitude and woe.

Cold in the grave for years has lain
The form it was my bliss to see,
And only dreams can bring again
The darling of my heart to me.

1 comment:

Arunabha said...

A silent night is always incomplete without a dozen "phuchkas"!(Anne bronte might hav overlooked this very important fact)One of my wise and learned friends(better quoted as my worthy opponent) had thrown considerable light upon this fact during a mild conversation.....cant recall her name!can u?