A Reminiscence
by Anne Brontë (1820-1849)

Yes, thou art gone! and never more
    Thy sunny smile shall gladden me;
But I may pass the old church door,
   And pace the floor that covers thee,

May stand upon the cold, damp stone,
   And think that, frozen, lies below
The lightest heart that I have known,
   The kindest I shall ever know.

Yet, though I cannot see thee more,
   ’Tis still a comfort to have seen;
And though thy transient life is o’er,
   ’Tis sweet to think that thou hast been;

To think a soul so near divine,
   Within a form, so angel fair,
United to a heart like thine,
   Has gladdened once our humble sphere.

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