Sympathy. By Emily Brontë

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There should be no dispair for you

While nightly stars are burning,

While evening pours its silent dew,

And sunshine gilds the morning.

There should be no dispair -though tears

May flow down like a river:

Are not the best beloved of the years

Around your heart forever?

They weep, you weep -it must be so;

Winds sigh as you are sighing,

And Winter sheds its grief in snow

Where Autumn´s leaves are lying:

Yet, these revive, and from their fate

Your fate cannot be parted:

Then, journey on, if not elate,

Still never broken-hearted!