Fortune, how fickle and how vain thou art,

Branwell Brontë

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Backward I look upon my life,
And see one waste of storm and strife,
One wrack of sorrows, hopes, and pain,
Vanishing to arise again!
That life has moved through evening, where
Continual shadows veiled my sphere;
From youth's horizon upward rolled
To life's meridian, dark and cold.

Branwell Brontë

Mots clés angria

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