---

Emily Jane Bronte - How Still, How Happy!
Work rating: Low

How still, how happy! Those are words
    That once would scarce agree together;
    I loved the plashing of the surge,
    The changing heaven the breezy weather,

    More than smooth seas and cloudless skies
    And solemn, soothing, softened airs
    That in the forest woke no sighs
    And from the green spray shook no tears.

    How still, how happy! now I feel
    Where silence dwells is sweeter far
    Than laughing mirth`s most joyous swell
    However pure its raptures are.

    Come, sit down on this sunny stone:
    `Tis wintry light o`er flowerless moors,
    But sit, for we are all alone
    And clear expand heaven`s breathless shores.

    I could think in the withered grass
    Spring`s budding wreaths we might discern;
    The violet`s eye might shyly flash
    And young leaves shoot among the fern.

    It is but thought, full many a night
    The snow shall clothe those hills afar
    And storms shall add a drearier blight
    And winds shall wage a wilder war,

    Before the lark may herald in
    Fresh foliage twined with blossoms fair
    And summer days again begin
    Their glory, haloed crown to wear.

    Yet my heart loves December`s smile
    As much as July`s golden beam;
    Then let us sit and watch the while
    The blue ice curdling on the stream.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.