Explore "Evening Solace. Currer Bell" by Charlotte Brontë on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The human heart has hidden treasures, / In secret kept, in silence sealed; -- / The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, / Whose charms were broken if revealed. / And days may pass in gay confusion, / And nights in rosy riot fly, / While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion, / The memory of the Past may die.
But there are hours of lonely musing, / Such as in evening silence come, / When, soft as birds their pinions closing, / The heart's best feelings gather home. / Then in our souls there seems to languish / A tender grief that is not woe; / And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish / Now cause but some mild tears to flow.