Emily Bronte
Song
The linnet in the rocky dells, The moor – lark in the air, The bee among the heather – bells That hide my lady fair: The wild deer browse above her breast; The wild
Self-Interrogation
The evening passes fast away, ‘Tis almost time to rest; What thoughts has left the vanished day, What feelings, in thy breast? “The vanished day? It leaves a sense Of labour hardly done; Of
Far, far away is mirth withdrawn
Far, far away is mirth withdrawn ‘Tis three long hours before the morn And I watch lonely, drearily – So come thou shade commune with me Deserted one! thy corpse lies cold And mingled
Remembrance
Cold in the earth-and the deep snow piled above thee, Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave! Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, Severed at last by Time’s all-severing wave?
Shall Earth No More Inspire Thee
Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now? Since passion may not fire thee Shall nature cease to bow? Thy mind is ever moving In regions dark to thee; Recall its useless
Moonlight, summer moonlight
‘Tis moonlight, summer moonlight, All soft and still and fair; The solemn hour of midnight Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere, But most where trees are sending Their breezy boughs on high, Or stooping low are
Speak, God Of Visions
O, thy bright eyes must answer now, When Reason, with a scornful brow, Is mocking at my overthrow! O, thy sweet tongue must plead for me, And tell why I have chosen thee! Stern
My Lady's Grave
THE linnet in the rocky dells, The moor-lark in the air, The bee among the heather bells That hide my lady fair: The wild deer browse above her breast; The wild birds raise their
The Philosopher
“Enough of thought, philosopher! Too long hast thou been dreaming Unlightened, in this chamber drear, While summer’s sun is beaming! Space – sweeping soul, what sad refrain Concludes thy musings once again? “Oh, for
"Me thinks this heart…"
Me thinks this heart should rest awhile So stilly round the evening falls The veiled sun sheds no parting smile Nor mirth nor music wakes my Halls I have sat lonely all the day
A Little Budding Rose
It was a little budding rose, Round like a fairy globe, And shyly did its leaves unclose Hid in their mossy robe, But sweet was the slight and spicy smell It breathed from its
My Comforter
Well hast thou spoken, and yet, not taught A feeling strange or new; Thou hast but roused a latent thought, A cloud-closed beam of sunshine, brought To gleam in open view. Deep down, concealed
'Fall, leaves, fall'
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should
Sympathy
There should be no despair for you While nightly stars are burning, While evening pours its silent dew And sunshine gilds the morning. There should be no despair – though tears May flow down
The Night – Wind
In summer’s mellow midnight, A cloudless moon shone through Our open parlour window, And rose-trees wet with dew. I sat in silent musing; The soft wind waved my hair; It told me heaven was