Tell me, tell me, smiling child,
What the past is like to thee ?
'An Autumn evening soft and mild
With a wind that sighs mournfully.’

Tell me, what is the present hour ?
'A green and flowery spray
Where a young bird sits gathering its power
To mount and fly
away.’

And what is the future, happy one ?
'A sea beneath a cloudless sun ;
A mighty, glorious, dazzling sea
Stretching into infinity.’


-Emily Brontë-


poetry friday roundup at jama rattigan's alphabet soup