Well hast thou spoken, and yet, not taught <br />A feeling strange or new; <br />Thou hast but roused a latent thought, <br />A cloud-closed beam of sunshine, brought <br />To gleam in open view. <br /> <br />Deep down, concealed within my soul, <br />That light lies hid from men; <br />Yet, glows unquenched - though shadows roll, <br />Its gentle ray cannot control, <br />About the sullen den. <br /> <br />Was I not vexed, in these gloomy ways <br />To walk alone so long? <br />Around me, wretches uttering praise, <br />Or howling o'er their hopeless days, <br />And each with Frenzy's tongue; - <br /> <br />A brotherhood of misery, <br />Their smiles as sad as sighs; <br />Whose madness daily maddened me, <br />Distorting into agony <br />The bliss before my eyes! <br /> <br />So stood I, in Heaven's glorious sun, <br />And in the glare of Hell; <br />My spirit drank a mingled tone, <br />Of seraph's song, and demon's moan; <br />What my soul bore, my soul alone <br />Within itself may tell! <br /> <br />Like a soft air, above a sea, <br />Tossed by the tempest's stir; <br />A thaw-wind, melting quietly <br />The snow-drift, on some wintry lea; <br />No: what sweet thing resembles thee, <br />My thoughtful Comforter? <br /> <br />And yet a little longer speak, <br />Calm this resentful mood; <br />And while the savage heart grows meek, <br />For other token do not seek, <br />But let the tear upon my cheek <br />Evince my gratitude!<br /><br />Emily Jane Brontë<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-comforter/
