by Emil Brontë Still let my tyrants know, I am not doom’d to wear Year after year in gloom and desolate despair; A messenger of Hope comes every night to me, And offers for short life, eternal liberty. He comes with Western winds, with evening’s wandering airs, With that clear dusk of heaven that bringsContinue reading “The Prisoner”
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Count That Day Lost
by George Eliot If you sit down at set of sun And count the acts that you have done, And, counting, find One self-denying deed, one word That eased the heart of him who heard, One glance most kind That fell like sunshine where it went – Then you may count that day well spent.Continue reading “Count That Day Lost”
Robin's Nest 