J. C. Squire, ed. A Book of Women’s Verse. 1921.
By Anne Brontë (18201849)If This Be All
O G
That Life can show to me;
If on my aching brow may fall
No freshening dew from Thee;
The lamp of hope may glow,
And I may only dream of bliss,
And wake to weary woe;
When other joys are gone,
And love must keep so far away,
While I go wandering on,—
The slave of others’ will,
With constant care and frequent pain,
Despised, forgotten still;
Yet powerless to quell
The silent current from within,
The outward torrent’s swell;
The feelings I would share,
Are driven backward to my heart,
And turned to wormwood there;
The glories of the Sun,
And I must suffer Winter’s blight,
Ere Summer is begun:
Then call me soon to Thee;
Or give me strength enough to bear
My load of misery!