Methought I saw him but I knew him not; br He was so changed from what he used to be, br There was no redness on his woe-worn cheek, br No sunny smile upon his ashy lips, br His hollow wandering eyes looked wild and fierce, br And grief was printed on his marble brow, br And O I thought he clasped his wasted hands, br And raised his haggard eyes to Heaven, and prayed br That he might die -- I had no power to speak, br I thought I was allowed to see him thus; br And yet I might not speak one single word; br I might not even tell him that I lived br And that it might be possible if search were made, br To find out where I was and set me free, br O how I longed to clasp him to my heart, br Or but to hold his trembling hand in mine, br And speak one word of comfort to his mind, br I struggled wildly but it was in vain, br I could not rise from my dark dungeon floor, br And the dear name I vainly strove to speak, br Died in a voiceless whisper on my tongue, br Then I awoke, and lo it was a dream! br A dream? Alas it was reality! br For well I know wherever he may be br He mourns me thus -- O heaven I could bear br My deadly fate with calmness if there were br No kindred hearts to bleed and break for me! br br Alexandrina Zenobiabr br Anne Brontëbr br