Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell

   How brightly glistening in the sun
     The woodland ivy plays!
     While yonder beeches from their barks
     Reflect his silver rays.

     That sun surveys a lovely scene
     From softly smiling skies;
     And wildly through unnumbered trees
     The wind of winter sighs:

     Now loud, it thunders o'er my head,
     And now in distance dies.
     But give me back my barren hills
     Where colder breezes rise;

     Where scarce the scattered, stunted trees
     Can yield an answering swell,
     But where a wilderness of heath
     Returns the sound as well.

     For yonder garden, fair and wide,
     With groves of evergreen,
     Long winding walks, and borders trim,
     And velvet lawns between;

     Restore to me that little spot,
     With gray walls compassed round,
     Where knotted grass neglected lies,
     And weeds usurp the ground.

     Though all around this mansion high
     Invites the foot to roam,
     And though its halls are fair within—
     Oh, give me back my HOME!