<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115706" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Dreams</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">While on my lonely couch I lie,<br>I seldom feel myself alone,<br>For fancy fills my dreaming eye<br>With scenes and pleasures of its own.<br>Then I may cherish at my breast<br>An infant's form beloved and fair,<br>May smile and soothe it into rest<br>With all a Mother's fondest care.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How sweet to feel its helpless form<br>Depending thus on me alone!<br>And while I hold it safe and warm<br>What bliss to think it is my own!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And glances then may meet my eyes<br>That daylight never showed to me;<br>What raptures in my bosom rise,<br>Those earnest looks of love to see,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To feel my hand so kindly prest,<br>To know myself beloved at last,<br>To think my heart has found a rest,<br>My life of solitude is past!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But then to wake and find it flown,<br>The dream of happiness destroyed,<br>To find myself unloved, alone,<br>What tongue can speak the dreary void?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A heart whence warm affections flow,<br>Creator, thou hast given to me,<br>And am I only thus to know<br>How sweet the joys of love would be?</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><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=115706" data-title="Dreams de Anne Brontë" data-description="While on my lonely couch I lie,/I seldom feel myself alone,/For fancy fills my dreaming eye/With scenes and pleasures of its own./Then I may cherish at my breast/An infant's form beloved and fair,/May smile and soothe it into rest/With all a Mothe..."></div> </div> </div>

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