Explore "The Arbour. Acton Bell" by Charlotte Brontë on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I'll rest me in this sheltered bower, / And look upon the clear blue sky / That smiles upon me through the trees, / Which stand so thick clustering by;
And view their green and glossy leaves, / All glistening in the sunshine fair; / And list the rustling of their boughs, / So softly whispering through the air.
And while my ear drinks in the sound, / My winged soul shall fly away; / Reviewing lone departed years / As one mild, beaming, autumn day;
And soaring on to future scenes, / Like hills and woods, and valleys green, / All basking in the summer's sun, / But distant still, and dimly seen.
Oh, list! 'tis summer's very breath / That gently shakes the rustling trees -- / But look! the snow is on the ground -- / How can I think of scenes like these?
'Tis but the FROST that clears the air, / And gives the sky that lovely blue; / They're smiling in a WINTER'S sun, / Those evergreens of sombre hue.
And winter's chill is on my heart -- / How can I dream of future bliss? / How can my spirit soar away, / Confined by such a chain as this?