Though bleak these woods and damp the ground <br />With fallen leaves so thickly strewn, <br />And cold the wind that wanders round <br />With wild and melancholy moan, <br />There is a friendly roof I know <br />Might shield me from the wintry blast; <br />There is a fire whose ruddy glow <br />Will cheer me for my wanderings past. <br /> <br />And so, though still where'er I roam <br />Cold stranger glances meet my eye, <br />Though when my spirit sinks in woe <br />Unheeded swells the unbidden sigh, <br /> <br />Though solitude endured too long <br />Bids youthful joys too soon decay, <br />Makes mirth a stranger to my tongue <br />And overclouds my noon of day, <br /> <br />When kindly thoughts that would have way <br />Flow back discouraged to my breast <br />I know there is, though far away <br />A home where heart and soul may rest. <br /> <br />Warm hands are there that clasped in mine <br />The warmer heart will not belie, <br />While mirth and truth and friendship shine <br />In smiling lip and earnest eye. <br /> <br />The ice that gathers round my heart <br />May there be thawed; and sweetly then <br />The joys of youth that now depart <br />Will come to cheer my soul again. <br /> <br />Though far I roam, this thought shall be <br />My hope, my comfort everywhere; <br />While such a home remains to me <br />My heart shall never know despair. <br /> <br />Hespera Caverndel<br /><br />Anne Brontë<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-consolation/
