Читать книгу Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell - Anne Bronte - Страница 10

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HOME.

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How brightly glistening in the sun

⁠The woodland ivy plays!

While yonder beeches from their barks

⁠Reflect his silver rays.

That sun surveys a lovely scene

⁠From softly smiling skies;

And wildly through unnumbered trees

⁠The wind of winter sighs:

Now loud, it thunders o'er my head,

⁠And now in distance dies.

But give me back my barren hills

⁠Where colder breezes rise;

​Where scarce the scattered, stunted trees

⁠Can yield an answering swell,

But where a wilderness of heath

⁠Returns the sound as well.

For yonder garden, fair and wide,

⁠With groves of evergreen,

Long winding walks, and borders trim,

⁠And velvet lawns between;

Restore to me that little spot,

⁠With grey walls compassed round,

Where knotted grass neglected lies,

⁠And weeds usurp the ground.

Though all around this mansion high

⁠Invites the foot to roam,

And though its halls are fair within—

⁠Oh, give me back my Home!

Acton.

Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell

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