There's little joy in life for me,
And little terror in the grave;
I've loved the parting hour to see
Of one I would have died to save.
Calmly to watch the failing breath,
Wishing each sigh might be the last;
Longing to see the shade of death
O'er those beloved features cast.
The cloud, the stillness that must part
The darling of my life from me;
And then to thank god from my heart,
To thank him well and fervently;
Although I knew that we had lost
The hope and glory of our life;
And now, benighted, tempest-tossed,
Must bear alone the weary strife.
-Charlotte Brontë
(Also, any thing you write I would love to post in here and of course you will get credit <3)
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What It Feels Like
PoetryA collection of stories, notes, quotes, poems and other tidbits of emotions. Send your own work I'd love to add it to my collection--and give you credit of course!
