Charlotte Bronte - Pleasure

Pleasure

A Short Poem or Else Not Say I

True pleasure breathes not city air,
Nor in Art's temples dwells,
In palaces and towers where
The voice of Grandeur dwells.

No! Seek it where high Nature holds
Her court 'mid stately groves,
Where she her majesty unfolds,
And in fresh beauty moves;

Where thousand birds of sweetest song,
The wildly rushing storm
And hundred streams which glide along,
Her mighty concert form!

Go where the woods in beauty sleep
Bathed in pale Luna's light,
Or where among their branches sweep
The hollow sounds of night.

Go where the warbling nightingale
In gushes rich doth sing,
Till all the lonely, quiet vale
With melody doth ring.

Go, sit upon a mountain steep,
And view the prospect round;
The hills and vales, the valley's sweep,
The far horizon bound.

Then view the wide sky overhead,
The still, deep vault of blue,
The sun which golden light doth shed,
The clouds of pearly hue.

And as you gaze on this vast scene
Your thoughts will journey far,
Though hundred years should roll between
On Time's swift-passing car.

To ages when the earth was yound,
When patriarchs, grey and old,
The praises of their god oft sung,
And oft his mercies told.

You see them with their beards of snow,
Their robes of ample form,
Their lives whose peaceful, gentle flow,
Felt seldom passion's storm.

Then a calm, solemn pleasure steals
Into your inmost mind;
A quiet aura your spirit feels,
A softened stillness kind.


Wife's Will The

Sit still¬ a word¬ a breath may break
(As light airs stir a sleeping lake,)
The glassy calm that soothes my woes,
The sweet, the deep, the full repose.
O leave me not ! for ever be
Thus, more than life itself to me !

Yes, close beside thee, let me kneel¬
Give me thy hand that I may feel
The friend so true¬so tried¬so dear,
My heart's own chosen¬indeed is near;
And check me not¬this hour divine
Belongs to me¬is fully mine.

'Tis thy own hearth thou sitt'st beside,
After long absence¬wandering wide;
'Tis thy own wife reads in thine eyes,
A promise clear of stormless skies,
For faith and true love light the rays,
Which shine responsive to her gaze.

Aye,¬well that single tear may fall;
Ten thousand might mine eyes recall,
Which from their lids, ran blinding fast,
In hours of grief, yet scarcely past,
Well may'st thou speak of love to me;
For, oh ! most truly¬I love thee !

Yet smile¬for we are happy now.
Whence, then, that sadness on thy brow ?
What say'st thou ? " We must once again,
Ere long, be severed by the main ? "
I knew not this¬I deemed no more,
Thy step would err from Britain's shore.

" Duty commands ?" 'Tis true¬'tis just;
Thy slightest word I wholly trust,
Nor by request, nor faintest sigh
Would I, to turn thy purpose, try;
But, William¬hear my solemn vow¬
Hear and confirm !¬with thee I go.

" Distance and suffering," did'st thou say ?
" Danger by night, and toil by day ?"
Oh, idle words, and vain are these;
Hear me ! I cross with thee the seas.
Such risk as thou must meet and dare,
I¬thy true wife¬will duly share.

Passive, at home, I will not pine;
Thy toils¬thy perils, shall be mine;
Grant this¬and be hereafter paid
By a warm heart's devoted aid:
'Tis granted¬with that yielding kiss,
Entered my soul unmingled bliss.

Thanks, William¬thanks ! thy love has joy,
Pure¬undefiled with base alloy;
'Tis not a passion, false and blind,
Inspires, enchains, absorbs my mind;
Worthy, I feel, art thou to be
Loved with my perfect energy.

This evening, now, shall sweetly flow,
Lit by our clear fire's happy glow;
And parting's peace-embittering fear,
Is warned, our hearts to come not near;
For fate admits my soul's decree,
In bliss or bale¬to go with thee !