I’ve been wandering in the greenwoods
And mid flowery smiling plains
I’ve been listening to the dark floods
To the thrushes thrilling strains
I have gathered the pale primrose
And the purple violet sweet
I’ve been where the Asphodel grows
And where lives the red deer fleet.
I’ve been to the distant mountain,
To the silver singing rill
By the crystal murmering mountain,
And the shady verdant hill.
I’ve been where the poplar is springing
From the fair inamelled ground
Where the nightingale is singing
With a solemn plaintive sound.
A tiny handwritten poem by 13-year-old Charlotte Brontë.