Read "The Letter. Currer Bell" by Charlotte Brontë online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
What is she writing? Watch her now, / How fast her fingers move! / How eagerly her youthful brow / Is bent in thought above! / Her long curls, drooping, shade the light, / She puts them quick aside, / Nor knows that band of crystals bright, / Her hasty touch untied. / It slips adown her silken dress, / Falls glittering at her feet; / Unmarked it falls, for she no less / Pursues her labour sweet.
The very loveliest hour that shines, / Is in that deep blue sky; / The golden sun of June declines, / It has not caught her eye. / The cheerful lawn, and unclosed gate, / The white road, far away, / In vain for her light footsteps wait, / She comes not forth to-day. / There is an open door of glass / Close by that lady's chair, / From thence, to slopes of messy grass, / Descends a marble stair.