Poet ry > Appeal

"Appeal"



by Anne Bronte

h, I am very weary,

Though tears no longer flow;

My eyes are tires of weeping,

My heart is sick of woe;



My life is very lonely,

My days pass heavily,

I'm wearing of repining,

Wilt thou not come to me?

.
.
Oh, didst thou know my longings

For thee, from day to day,

My hopes, so often blighted,

Thou wouldst not thus delay!


Anne Bronte


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