Methought I saw him but I knew him not; <br />He was so changed from what he used to be, <br />There was no redness on his woe-worn cheek, <br />No sunny smile upon his ashy lips, <br />His hollow wandering eyes looked wild and fierce, <br />And grief was printed on his marble brow, <br />And O I thought he clasped his wasted hands, <br />And raised his haggard eyes to Heaven, and prayed <br />That he might die -- I had no power to speak, <br />I thought I was allowed to see him thus; <br />And yet I might not speak one single word; <br />I might not even tell him that I lived <br />And that it might be possible if search were made, <br />To find out where I was and set me free, <br />O how I longed to clasp him to my heart, <br />Or but to hold his trembling hand in mine, <br />And speak one word of comfort to his mind, <br />I struggled wildly but it was in vain, <br />I could not rise from my dark dungeon floor, <br />And the dear name I vainly strove to speak, <br />Died in a voiceless whisper on my tongue, <br />Then I awoke, and lo it was a dream! <br />A dream? Alas it was reality! <br />For well I know wherever he may be <br />He mourns me thus -- O heaven I could bear <br />My deadly fate with calmness if there were <br />No kindred hearts to bleed and break for me! <br /> <br />Alexandrina Zenobia<br /><br />Anne Brontë<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-captive-s-dream-2/
