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Lines Written At Thorp Green by Anne Brontë
Lines Written At Thorp Green Anne Brontë 1820 – 1849 That summer sun, whose genial glow Now cheers my drooping spirit so Must cold and distant be, And only light our northern clime With feeble ray, before the time I long so much to see.
And this soft whispering breeze that now So gently cools my fevered brow, This too, alas, must turn To a wild blast whose icy dart Pierces and chills me to the heart, Before I cease to mourn.
And these bright flowers I love so well, Verbena, rose and sweet bluebell, Must droop and die away. Those thick green leaves with all their shade And rustling music, they must fade And every one decay.
But if the sunny summer time And woods and meadows in their prime Are sweet to them that roam Far sweeter is the winter bare With long dark nights and landscapes drear To them that are at Home!
And this soft whispering breeze that now So gently cools my fevered brow, This too, alas, must turn To a wild blast whose icy dart Pierces and chills me to the heart, Before I cease to mourn.
And these bright flowers I love so well, Verbena, rose and sweet bluebell, Must droop and die away. Those thick green leaves with all their shade And rustling music, they must fade And every one decay.
But if the sunny summer time And woods and meadows in their prime Are sweet to them that roam Far sweeter is the winter bare With long dark nights and landscapes drear To them that are at Home!
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By Maggie DeversLines Written At Thorp Green Anne Brontë 1820 – 1849 That summer sun, whose genial glow Now cheers my drooping spirit so Must cold and distant be, And only light our northern clime With feeble ray, before the time I long so much to see.
And this soft whispering breeze that now So gently cools my fevered brow, This too, alas, must turn To a wild blast whose icy dart Pierces and chills me to the heart, Before I cease to mourn.
And these bright flowers I love so well, Verbena, rose and sweet bluebell, Must droop and die away. Those thick green leaves with all their shade And rustling music, they must fade And every one decay.
But if the sunny summer time And woods and meadows in their prime Are sweet to them that roam Far sweeter is the winter bare With long dark nights and landscapes drear To them that are at Home!
And this soft whispering breeze that now So gently cools my fevered brow, This too, alas, must turn To a wild blast whose icy dart Pierces and chills me to the heart, Before I cease to mourn.
And these bright flowers I love so well, Verbena, rose and sweet bluebell, Must droop and die away. Those thick green leaves with all their shade And rustling music, they must fade And every one decay.
But if the sunny summer time And woods and meadows in their prime Are sweet to them that roam Far sweeter is the winter bare With long dark nights and landscapes drear To them that are at Home!
Mentioned in this episode:
Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️
🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️