Verse > Anthologies > James and Mary Ford, eds. > Every Day in the Year
James and Mary Ford, eds.  Every Day in the Year.  1902.
March 31
Charlotte Brontë
By Charlotte Becker
(Died March 31, 1855)

NOT any of earth’s happiness she knew,
  But only dull, gray days of sordid care,
  And yet there grew within her, strong and fair,
The flower and fruit of comprehension, true
And vital as the northern wind that blew        5
  Across her native moorlands; grief swept bare
  The beauty of the joys she might not share,
And gave her power to tell life’s wonders through.
Repressed and patient, each slow year more sad
  With dreary servitude to other’s pain—        10
  Her genius, like a budding rose, had lain
Too close her heart to wither—all the glad,
  Warm strength of living, as each leaf unfurled,
  Denied to her, was blossomed for the world!

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