Author Emily Bronti When days of Beauty deck the earth Or stormy nights descend, How well my spirit knows the path On which it ought to wend. It seeks the consecrated spot Beloved in childhood's years, The space between is all forgot Its sufferings and its tears. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments