z

Young Writers Society


404: Not Found

Oops! This link might be corrupted.
You should check for any Miss Spellings.
While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:


On the Death of Anne Brontë (1896)
by Charlotte Brontë

There's little joy in life for me,
And little terror in the grave;
I 've lived the parting hour to see
Of one I would have died to save.

Calmly to watch the failing breath,
Wishing each sigh might be the last;
Longing to see the shade of death
O'er those belovèd features cast.

The cloud, the stillness that must part
The darling of my life from me;
And then to thank God from my heart,
To thank Him well and fervently;

Although I knew that we had lost
The hope and glory of our life;
And now, benighted, tempest-tossed,
Must bear alone the weary strife.


The capacity of human beings to bore one another seems to be vastly greater than that of any other animal.
— H. L. Mencken