Though not a breath can enter here, <br />I know the wind blows fresh and free; <br />I know the sun is shining clear, <br />Though not a gleam can visit me. <br />They thought while I in darkness lay, <br />'Twere pity that I should not know <br />How all the earth is smiling gay; <br />How fresh the vernal breezes blow. <br /> <br />They knew, such tidings to impart <br />Would pierce my weary spirit through, <br />And could they better read my heart, <br />They'd tell me, she was smiling too. <br /> <br />They need not, for I know it well, <br />Methinks I see her even now; <br />No sigh disturbs her bosom's swell, <br />No shade o'ercasts her angel brow. <br /> <br />Unmarred by grief her angel voice, <br />Whence sparkling wit, and wisdom flow: <br />And others in its sound rejoice, <br />And taste the joys I must not know, <br /> <br />Drink rapture from her soft dark eye, <br />And sunshine from her heavenly smile; <br />On wings of bliss their moments fly, <br />And I am pining here the while! <br /> <br />Oh! tell me, does she never give -- <br />To my distress a single sigh? <br />She smiles on them, but does she grieve <br />One moment, when they are not by? <br /> <br />When she beholds the sunny skies, <br />And feels the wind of heaven blow; <br />Has she no tear for him that lies <br />In dungeon gloom, so far below? <br /> <br />While others gladly round her press <br />And at her side their hours beguile, <br />Has she no sigh for his distress <br />Who cannot see a single smile <br /> <br />Nor hear one word nor read a line <br />That her beloved hand might write, <br />Who banished from her face must pine <br />Each day a long and lonely night? <br /> <br />Alexander April 1826<br /><br />Anne Brontë<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-inscribed-on-the-wall-of-a-dungeon-in-the/
