Thorp Green

I sit, this evening, far away,
From all I used to know,
And nought reminds my soul to-day
Of happy long ago.

Unwelcome cares, unthought-of fears,
Around my room arise;
I seek for suns of former years
But clouds o'ercast my skies.

Yes-Memory, wherefore does thy voice
Bring old times back to view,
As thou wouldst bid me not rejoice
In thoughts and prospects new?

I'll thank thee, Memory, in the hour
When troubled thoughts are mine-
For thou, like suns in April's shower,
On shadowy scenes wilt shine.

I'll thank thee when approaching death
Would quench life's feeble ember,
For thou wouldst even renew my breath
With thy sweet word 'Remember'!

by Patrick Branwell Bronte

Comments (9)

every thing has its purpose and time will not stop it
Brilliant poem. A descriptive assessment of the situation.
wow, people! notice how this poem which begins with reference to a fairy tale, to something of lesser consequence, ends with a profound note and a surprise. -glen kappy
Thanks for sharing++++++++++++++++
Made me look at that God again and Again! thank you for sharing! ! ! 10+++! ! !
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