Tag Archives: *Poetry of Ann Bronte

A fine and subtle spirit dwellsIn every little flower,Each one its own sweet feeling breathesWith more or less of power. There is a silent eloquenceIn every wild bluebellThat fills my softened heart with blissThat words could never tell. Yet I recall not long agoA bright and sunny day,‘Twas when I led a toilsome lifeSo manyContinue reading “The Bluebell*”