Thorpe Green

I've never been one for poetry, but this one by Branwell Brontë is very nice. I think it's the simplicity of it that appeals to me. It reminds me of the sort of poem that would pop up in our readers at primary school and the teacher would either ignore them or go over them very briefly. I first came across Thorpe Green in 2001 and never forgot it. It was written by Branwell Brontë on 30th March, 1843. 

I sit, this evening, far away,
From all I used to know,
And nought reminds my soul to-day
Of happy long ago.

Unwelcome cares, unthought-of fears,
Around my room arise;
I seek for suns of former years
But clouds o'ercast my skies.

Yes-Memory, wherefore does thy voice
Bring old times back to view,
As thou wouldst bid me not rejoice
In thoughts and prospects new?

I'll thank thee, Memory, in the hour
When troubled thoughts are mine-
For thou, like suns in April's shower,
On shadowy scenes wilt shine.

I'll thank thee when approaching death
Would quench life's feeble ember,
For thou wouldst even renew my breath
With thy sweet word 'Remember'!