Explore "Presentiment. Currer Bell" by Charlotte Brontë on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Sister, you've sat there all the day, / Come to the hearth awhile; / The wind so wildly sweeps away, / The clouds so darkly pile. / That open book has lain, unread, / For hours upon your knee; / You've never smiled nor turned your head; / What can you, sister, see?"
"Come hither, Jane, look down the field; / How dense a mist creeps on! / The path, the hedge, are both concealed, / Ev'n the white gate is gone / No landscape through the fog I trace, / No hill with pastures green; / All featureless is Nature's face. / All masked in clouds her mien.