Mirth and Mourning

Anne Brontë

1820 to 1849

Poem Image

Oh! cast away your sorrow;—
A while, at least, be gay!
If grief must come to-morrow,
At least be glad to-day!

How can you still be sighing
When smiles are everywhere?
The little birds are flying
So blithely through the air;

The sunshine glows so brightly
O'er all the blooming earth;
And every heart beats lightly;
Each face is full of mirth.

'I always feel the deepest gloom
When day most brightly shines:
When Nature shows the fairest bloom
My spirit most repines;

'For in the brightest noon-tide glow
The dungeon's light is dim;
Though freshest winds around us blow,
No breath can visit him.

'If he must sit in twilight gloom,
Can I enjoy the sight
Of mountains clad in purple bloom,
And rocks in sunshine bright?

'My heart may well be desolate,
These tears may well arise,
While prison-wall and iron-grate
Oppress his weary eyes.'

But think of him to-morrow,
And join your comrades now;
That constant cloud of sorrow
Ill suits so young a brow.

Hark how their merry voices
Are sounding far and near!
While all the world rejoices,
Can you sit moping here?

'When others'hearts most lightly bound,
Mine feels the most oppressed;
When smiling faces greet me round,
My sorrow will not rest.

'I think of him whose faintest smile
Was sunshine to my heart;
Whose lightest word could care beguile,
And blissful thoughts impart.

'I think how he would bless that sun
And love this glorious scene;
I think of all that has been done,
And all that might have been.

'Those sparkling eyes that blessed me so
Are dim with weeping now;
And blighted hope and burning woe
Have ploughed that marble brow.

'What waste of youth, what hopes destroyed,
What days of pining care,
What weary nights of comfort void,
Art thou condemned to bear!

'Oh! if my love must suffer so,
And wholly for my sake,
What marvel that my tears should flow,
Or that my heart should break?'