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The consolation by Anne Bronte

Though bleak these woods and damp the ground

With fallen leaves so thickly strewn,

And cold the wind that wanders round

With wild and melancholy moan,

There is a friendly roof I know

Might shield me from the wintry blast;

There is a fire whose ruddy glow

Will cheer me for my wanderings past.
And so, though still where’er I roam

Cold stranger glances meet my eye,

Though when my spirit sinks in woe

Unheeded swells the unbidden sigh,
Though solitude endured too long

Bids youthful joys too soon decay,

Makes mirth a stranger to my tongue

And overclouds my noon of day,
When kindly thoughts that would have way

Flow back discouraged to my breast

I know there is, though far away

A home where heart and soul may rest.
Warm hands are there that clasped in mine

The warmer heart will not belie,

While mirth and truth and friendship shine

In smiling lip and earnest eye.
The ice that gathers round my heart

May there be thawed; and sweetly then

The joys of youth that now depart

Will come to cheer my soul again.
Though far I roam, this thought shall be

My hope, my comfort everywhere;

While such a home remains to me

My heart shall never know despair.

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