On the Death of Anne Brontë by Charlotte Brontë

    There's little joy in life for me,
    And little terror in the grave;
    I 've lived the parting hour to see
    Of one I would have died to save.

    Calmly to watch the failing breath,
    Wishing each sigh might be the last;
    Longing to see the shade of death
    O'er those belovèd features cast.

    The cloud, the stillness that must part
    The darling of my life from me;
    And then to thank God from my heart,
    To thank Him well and fervently;

    Although I knew that we had lost
    The hope and glory of our life;
    And now, benighted, tempest-tossed,
    Must bear alone the weary strife.