Yet though I cannot see thee more  
 'Tis still a comfort to have seen,  
 And though thy transient life is o'er  
 'Tis sweet to think that thou has been;  
 To think a soul so near divine  
 Within a form so angel fair  
 united to a heart like thine  
 Has gladdened once our humble sphere.
The Works of Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë (1893)











