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/lit/ - Literature


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14656505 No.14656505 [Reply] [Original]

To feel my hand so kindly prest,
To know myself beloved at last,
To think my heart has found a rest,
My life of solitude is past!

But then to wake and find it flown,
The dream of happiness destroyed,
To find myself unloved, alone,
What tongue can speak the dreary void?

A heart whence warm affections flow,
Creator, thou hast given to me,
And am I only thus to know
How sweet the joys of love would be?

- 'Dreams' by Anne Bronte, 1845

>> No.14656512

>muh buzzword
R*ddit is that way.

>> No.14656516
File: 587 KB, 800x1185, 7F20CA9D-317D-48DA-B65D-9572638A15D8.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
14656516

>>14656505
>femcels
>refuted by Guenon, retroactively
Nothing personal, kid.