English Poetry. Anne Brontë. Home. Энн Бронте.

Anne Brontë (Энн Бронте)

Home

How brightly glistening in the sun
The woodland ivy plays!
While yonder beeches from their barks
Reflect his silver rays.
That sun surveys a lovely scene
From softly smiling skies;
And wildly through unnumbered trees
The wind of winter sighs:

Now loud, it thunders o'er my head,
And now in distance dies.
But give me back my barren hills
Where colder breezes rise;

Where scarce the scattered, stunted trees
Can yield an answering swell,
But where a wilderness of heath
Returns the sound as well.

For yonder garden, fair and wide,
With groves of evergreen,
Long winding walks, and borders trim,
And velvet lawns between;

Restore to me that little spot,
With grey walls compassed round,
Where knotted grass neglected lies,
And weeds usurp the ground.

Though all around this mansion high
Invites the foot to roam,
And though its halls are fair within --
Oh, give me back my HOME!

Anne Brontë’s other poems:

1. To Cowper
2. My God! O Let Me Call Thee Mine!
3. Lines Written From Home
4. Severed And Gone
5. A Word To The Calvinists

Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

Rupert Brooke (Руперт Брук) Home (“I came back late and tired last night”)

Madison Cawein (Мэдисон Кавейн) Home (“I dream again I’m in the lane”)

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