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| A new home, a parish New life, for the curate His wife and six children As the laden cart stopped at Haworth And the church bells sounded And they walked Into solitude, sickness, the consumption Mother now lost; an aunt, and father, to carry on As the church bells sounded And they walked To school, to Cowan Bridge, so tragic, so harsh for children's souls And four now left to their own fantasies To Angria, Gondall and Gaaldine To dreams, writing, an escape to their little books And the years passed And the church bells sounded And they walked Each evening, around that table, in rhythm, "making out" their stories And hid their talent from one Who failed to prove them proud and chose the bottle And dear father in his study with his tea and self-indulgence Unaware a new day had come for Currer, Ellis and Acton An escape from their wretched bondage New hopes and success For our Charlotte, Emily and Anne And as the church bells sounded Over their beloved moors, of heather, moss and grass Three would suddenly leave her To face her final days With Arthur, father and memories Of how it used to be And the world would know their stories Of how they'd walked Toward their own achievements Since the cart that stopped at Haworth When the church bells sounded |
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poem written by Barbara J. Tanke 2/99 
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