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Far, far away is mirth withdrawn
Far, far away is mirth withdrawn ‘Tis three long hours before the morn And I watch lonely, drearily – So come thou shade commune with me Deserted one!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
A little while, a little while
A little while, a little while, The weary task is put away, And I can sing and I can smile, Alike, while I have holiday. Why wilt thou go, my harassed heart, What thought,
Blue Bell, The
The blue bell is the sweetest flower That waves in summer air; Its blossoms have the mightiest power To soothe my spirit’s care. There is a spell in purple heath Too wildly, sadly dear;
Stanzas
I’ll not weep that thou art going to leave me, There’s nothing lovely here; And doubly will the dark world grieve me, While thy heart suffers there. I’ll not weep, because the summer’s glory
Faith and Despondency
The winter wind is loud and wild, Come close to me, my darling child; Forsake thy books, and mateless play; And, while the night is gathering grey, We’ll talk its pensive hours away; ‘Ierne,
Anticipation
How beautiful the earth is still, To thee – how full of happiness! How little fraught with real ill, Or unreal phantoms of distress! How spring can bring thee glory, yet, And summer win
The Old Stoic
Riches I hold in light esteem, And love I laugh to scorn; And lust of fame was but a dream That vanish’d with the morn: And if I pray, the only prayer That moves
No Coward Soul Is Mine
No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere: I see Heaven’s glories shine, And faith shines equal, arming me from fear. O God within my breast, Almighty, ever-present Deity! Life-that
The Visionary
Silent is the house: all are laid asleep: One alone looks out o’er the snow-wreaths deep, Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze That whirls the wildering drift, and bends the groaning trees. Cheerful is
She Dried Her Tears
She dried her tears and they did smile To see her cheeks’ returning glow How little dreaming all the while That full heart throbbed to overflow With that sweet look and lively tone And
Prisoner, The – (A Fragment)
In the dungeon-crypts, idly did I stray, Reckless of the lives wasting there away; “Draw the ponderous bars! open, Warder stern!” He dared not say me nay – the hinges harshly turn. “Our guests
How Clear She Shines
How clear she shines! How quietly I lie beneath her guardian light; While heaven and earth are whispering me, ” Tomorrow, wake, but, dream to-night.” Yes, Fancy, come, my Fairy love! These throbbing temples
Oh, For The Time When I Shall Sleep
Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity, And never care how rain may steep, Or snow may cover me! No promised heaven these wild desires Could all, or half, fulful; No
Love and Friendship
Love is like the wild rose-briar, Friendship like the holly-tree The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms But which will bloom most contantly? The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring, Its summer
'Yes, holy be thy resting place'
Yes, holy be thy resting place Wherever thou may’st lie; The sweetest winds breathe on thy face, The softest of the sky. And will not guardian Angles send Kind dreams and thoughts of love,
A Death – Scene
“O day! he cannot die When thou so fair art shining! O Sun, in such a glorious sky, So tranquilly declining; He cannot leave thee now, While fresh west winds are blowing, And all
Stanza
Often rebuked, yet always back returning To those first feelings that were born with me, And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning For idle dreams of things which cannot be: Today, I will
Honour's Martyr
The moon is full this winter night; The stars are clear, though few; And every window glistens bright, With leaves of frozen dew. The sweet moon through your lattice gleams And lights your room
If grief for grief can touch thee
If grief for grief can touch thee, If answering woe for woe, If any truth can melt thee Come to me now! I cannot be more lonely, More drear I cannot be! My worn
That Wind I Used to Hear it Swelling
That wind I used to hear it swelling With joy divinely deep You might have seen my hot tears welling But rapture made me weep I used to love on winter nights To lie
"I am the only being whose doom…"
I am the only being whose doom No tongue would ask no eye would mourn I never caused a thought of gloom A smile of joy since I was born In secret pleasure –
High waving heather 'neath stormy blasts bending
High waving heather ‘neath stormy blasts bending, Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars, Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending, Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending, Man’s spirit away from its drear dungeon sending,
Hope
Hope was but a timid friend; She sat without the grated den, Watching how my fate would tend, Even as selfish-hearted men. She was cruel in her fear; Through the bars, one dreary day,
How still, how happy!
How still, how happy! Those are words That once would scarce agree together; I loved the plashing of the surge – The changing heaven the breezy weather, More than smooth seas and cloudless skies
Come hither, child
Come hither, child who gifted thee With power to touch that string so well? How darest thou rouse up thoughts in me, Thoughts that I would but cannot quell? Nay, chide not, lady; long
The Prisoner
Still let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear Year after year in gloom and desolate despair; A messenger of Hope comes every night to me, And offers for short life, eternal
Plead For Me
Oh, thy bright eyes must answer now, When Reason, with a scornful brow, Is mocking at my overthrow! Oh, thy sweet tongue must plead for me And tell, why I have chosen thee! Stern
Wind was Rough which Tore, The
The wind was rough which tore That leaf from its parent tree The fate was cruel which bore The withering corpse to me We wander on we have no rest It is a dreary
Death
Death! that struck when I was most confiding In my certain faith of joy to be – Strike again, Time’s withered branch dividing From the fresh root of Eternity! Leaves, upon Time’s branch, were
Come, Walk With Me
Come, walk with me, There’s only thee To bless my spirit now – We used to love on winter nights To wander through the snow; Can we not woo back old delights? The clouds
Stars
Ah! why, because the dazzling sun Restored our Earth to joy, Have you departed, every one, And left a desert sky? All through the night, your glorious eyes Were gazing down in mine, And,
I see around me tombstones grey
I see around me tombstones grey Stretching their shadows far away. Beneath the turf my footsteps tread Lie low and lone the silent dead – Beneath the turf – beneath the mould – Forever
Mild the mist upon the hill
Mild the mist upon the hill Telling not of storms tomorrow; No, the day has wept its fill, Spent its store of silent sorrow. O, I’m gone back to the days of youth, I
At Castle Wood
The day is done, the winter sun Is setting in its sullen sky; And drear the course that has been run, And dim the hearts that slowly die. No star will light my coming
The Sun Has Set
The sun has set, and the long grass now Waves dreamily in the evening wind; And the wild bird has flown from that old gray stone In some warm nook a couch to find.
To Imagination
When weary with the long day’s care, And earthly change from pain to pain, And lost and ready to despair, Thy kind voice calls me back again: Oh, my true friend! I am not
A Day Dream
On a sunny brae, alone I lay One summer afternoon; It was the marriage-time of May With her young lover, June. From her mother’s heart, seemed loath to part That queen of bridal charms,
The Night is Darkening Around Me
The night is darkening round me, The wild winds coldly blow ; But a tyrant spell has bound me, And I cannot, cannot go. The giant trees are bending Their bare boughs weighed with
Last Lines
NO coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere: I see Heaven’s glories shine, And faith shines equal, arming me from fear. O God within my breast, Almighty, ever-present Deity! Life