Author:  Patrick Bronte

Release Date:  November 16, 2005 [eBook #17081]

Language:  English

Character set encoding:  ISO-646-us (us-ASCII)

***Start of the project gutenberg EBOOK cottage poems***

Transcribed from the 1893 J. M. Dent edition of “Poems of Charlotte, Emily & Anne Bronte with Cottage Poems by Patrick Bronte” by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk

COTTAGE POEMS.

EPISTLE TO THE REV.  J—–­ B—–­, WHILST JOURNEYING FOR THE RECOVERY OF HIS HEALTH.

When warm’d with zeal, my rustic Muse
Feels fluttering fain to tell her news,
And paint her simple, lowly views
      With all her art,
And, though in genius but obtuse,
      May touch the heart.

Of palaces and courts of kings
She thinks but little, never sings,
But wildly strikes her uncouth strings
      In some pool cot,
Spreads o’er the poor hen fostering wings,
      And soothes their lot.

Well pleased is she to see them smile,
And uses every honest wile
To mend then hearts, their cares beguile,
      With rhyming story,
And lend them to then God the while,
      And endless glory.

Perchance, my poor neglected Muse
Unfit to harass or amuse,
Escaping praise and loud abuse,
      Unheard, unknown,
May feed the moths and wasting dews,
      As some have done.

Her aims are good, howe’er they end—­
Here comes a foe, and there a friend,
These point the dart and those defend,
      Whilst some deride her;
But God will sweetest comforts blend,
      Whate’er betide her.

Thus heaven-supported, forth she goes
Midst flatterers, critics, friends, and foes;
Secure, since He who all things knows
      Approves her aim,
And kindly fans, or fostering blows
      Her sinking flame.

Hence, when she shows her honest face,
And tells her tale with awkward grace,
Importunate to gain a place
      Amongst your friends,
To ruthless critics leave her case,
      And hail her ends.

To all my heart is kind and true,
But glows with ardent love for you;
Though absent, still you rise in view,
      And talk and smile,
Whilst heavenly themes, for ever new,
      Our cares beguile.

The happy seasons oft return,
When love our melting hearts did burn,
As we through heavenly themes were borne
      With heavenward eyes,
And Faith this empty globe would spurn,
      And sail the skies.

Or, when the rising sun shines bright,
Or, setting, leaves the world in night,
Or, dazzling, sheds his noon-day light,
      Or, cloudy, hides,
My fancy, in her airy flight,
      With you resides.