All day I’ve toiled, but no with pain. By Emily Bronte
All day I’ve toiled, but not with pain,
In learning’s godlen mine-
And now at eventide again
The moonbeams softly shine.
There is no snow upon the ground,
No frsot on wind or wave-
The south wind blew with gentlest sound
And broke their icy grave.
‘Tis sweet to wander here at night
To watch the winter die,
With heart as summer sunshine light
And warm as summer’s sky.
Oh, may I never lose the peace
That lulls me gently now,
Though time should change my youthful face
And years hsould shade my brow.
True to myself and true to all
May i be healthful still,
And turn away from passion’s call
And Curb my own wild will.