Poetry

by

Emily Brontė

I die; but when the grave shall press

The heart so long endeared to thee,

When earthly cares no more distress

And earthly joys are nought to me,

Weep not, but think that I have passed

Before thee o'er a sea of gloom,

Have anchored safe, and rest at last

Where tears and mourning cannot come.

'Tis I should weep to leave thee here,

On that dark ocean, sailing drear,

With storms around and fears before

And no kind light to point the shore.

But long or short though life may be

'Tis nothing to eternity;

We part below to meet on high

Where blissful ages never die.

Tell me, tell me, smiling child,

What the past is like to thee?

"An autumn evening soft and mild

With a wind that sighs mournfully."

Tell me, what is the present hour?

"A green and flowery spray

Where a young bird sits gathering its power

To mount and fly away."

And what is the future, happy one?

"A sea beneath a cloudless sun;

A mighty, glorious, dazzling sea

Stretching into infinity."

"The Night Wind"

In summers mellow midnight

A cloudless moon shone through

Our open parlour window

And rosetrees wet with dew.

I sat in silent musing-

The soft wind waved my hair;

It told me heaven was glorious

And sleeping earth was fair.

I needed not it's breathing

To bring such thoughts to me

But still I whispered lowly

"How dark the woods will be!

The thick leaves in my murmur

Are rustling like a dream,

And all their myriad voices

Instinct with spirit seem."

I said: "Go gentle singer,

Thy wooing voice is kind,

But do not think its music

Has power to reach my mind.

Play with the scented flower,

The young tree's supple bough-

And leave my human feelings

In their own course to flow."

The wanderer would not leave me;

Its kiss grew warmer still-

"Oh come," it sighed so sweetly,

"I'll win thee 'gainst thy will.

Have we not been from childhood friends?

Have I not loved thee long?

As long as thou hast loved the night

Whose silence wakes my song.

And when thy heart is laid at rest

Beneath the church-yard stone

I shall have time enough to mourn

And thou to be alone."

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