<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115594" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Self-Congratulation</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ellen, you were thoughtless once<br>Of beauty or of grace,<br>Simple and homely in attire,<br>Careless of form and face;<br>Then whence this change? and wherefore now<br>So often smooth your hair?<br>And wherefore deck your youthful form<br>With such unwearied care?<br>Tell us -­ and cease to tire our ears<br>With that familiar strain -­<br>Why will you play those simple tunes<br>So often, o'er again?<br>'Indeed, dear friends, I can but say<br>That childhood's thoughts are gone;<br>Each year its own new feelings brings,<br>And years move swiftly on:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And for these little simple airs -<br>I love to play them o'er<br>So much -­ I dare not promise, now,<br>To play them never more.'<br>I answered -­ and it was enough;<br>They turned them to depart;<br>They could not read my secret thoughts,<br>Nor see my throbbing heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I've noticed many a youthful form,<br>Upon whose changeful face<br>The inmost workings of the soul<br>The gazer well might trace;<br>The speaking eye, the changing lip,<br>The ready blushing cheek,<br>The smiling, or beclouded brow,<br>Their different feelings speak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, thank God! you might gaze on mine<br>For hours, and never know<br>The secret changes of my soul<br>From joy to keenest woe.<br>Last night, as we sat round the fire<br>Conversing merrily,<br>We heard, without, approaching steps<br>Of one well known to me!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was no trembling in my voice,<br>No blush upon my cheek,<br>No lustrous sparkle in my eyes,<br>Of hope, or joy, to speak;<br>But, oh! my spirit burned within,<br>My heart beat full and fast!<br>He came not nigh -­ he went away -­<br>And then my joy was past.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet my comrades marked it not:<br>My voice was still the same;<br>They saw me smile, and o'er my face<br>No signs of sadness came.<br>They little knew my hidden thoughts;<br>And they will never know<br>The aching anguish of my heart,<br>The bitter burning woe!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Bront%C3%AB">Anne Brontë</a> from <i>Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell</i><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115594" data-title="Self-Congratulation de Anne Brontë" data-description="Ellen, you were thoughtless once/Of beauty or of grace,/Simple and homely in attire,/Careless of form and face;/Then whence this change? and wherefore now/So often smooth your hair?/And wherefore deck your youthful form/With such unwearied care?/T..."></div> </div> </div>

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