Explore "Death. Ellis Bell" by Charlotte Brontë on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Death! that struck when I was most confiding. / In my certain faith of joy to be -- / Strike again, Time's withered branch dividing / From the fresh root of Eternity!
Leaves, upon Time's branch, were growing brightly, / Full of sap, and full of silver dew; / Birds beneath its shelter gathered nightly; / Daily round its flowers the wild bees flew.