The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë

POEMS PUBLISHED IN 1846 I 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;— 'Iernë, round our sheltered hall November's gusts unheeded call; No

II 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, with a full heart's thankful sighs, I blessed that watch divine. I was at peace, and drank your beams As

III 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 the time when I shall sleep Without identity.

IV 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? Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover Over the mountains, on that northern shore, Resting

V 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 around his youthful brow Thy cheerful light is glowing! 'Edward, awake, awake— The golden evening gleams

VI 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 birds raise their brood; And they, her smiles of love caressed, Have left her solitude! I ween, that when the grave's dark wall Did

VII 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 thee to forget December's sullen time! Why dost thou hold the treasure fast, Of youth's delight, wh

VIII THE PRISONER 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 are darkly lodged,' I whisper'd, gazing through The vault, whose grated eye showe

IX 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, I looked out to see her there, And she turned her face away! Like a false guard, false watch keeping, Still,

X 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, But her father smiled on the fairest child He ever held in his arms. The trees did wave their plumy c

XI 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 lone, While then canst speak with such a tone! So hopeless is the world without; The world within I doubly pri

XII HOW CLEAR SHE SHINES How clear she shines! How quietly I lie beneath her guardian light; While heaven and earth are whispering me, 'To-morrow, wake, but, dream to-night.' Yes, Fancy, come, my Fairy love! These throbbing temples softly kiss; And bend my lonely couch above, And bring me rest, and

XIII 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 like a river: Are not the best beloved of years Around your heart for ever? They weep, you weep,

XIV 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 Reason is to judgement come, Arrayed in all her forms of gloom: Wilt thou, my advocate, be dumb? No, radi

XV 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 little gained with vast expense— A sense of grief alone! 'Time stands before the door o

XVI 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 growing brightly, Full of sap, and full of silver dew; Birds beneath its shelter gathered nightly;

XVII STANZAS TO—— Well, some may hate, and some may scorn, And some may quite forget thy name; But my sad heart must ever mourn Thy ruined hopes, thy blighted fame! 'Twas thus I thought, an hour ago, Even weeping o'er that wretch's woe; One word turned back my gushing tears, And lit my altered eye w

XVIII 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 like day; And there you pass, in happy dreams, The peaceful hours away! While I, with

XIX 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 Must always end in gloom; And, follow out the happiest story— It closes with a tomb! And I am wea

XX 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 within my soul, That light lies hid from men; Yet glows unquenched—though shadows roll, Its g

XXI THE OLD STOIC Riches I hold in light esteem, And Love I laugh to scorn; And lust of fame was but a dream, That vanished with the morn: And if I pray, the only prayer That moves my lips for me Is, 'Leave the heart that now I bear, And give me liberty!' Yes, as my swift days near their goal, 'Tis

POSTHUMOUS POEMS Reprinted from 'Selections from the Literary Remains of Ellis and Acton Bell,' first published in the 1850 Edition of Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey. - SELECTIONS FROM POEMS BY ELLIS BELL[1] It would not have been difficult to compile a volume out of the papers left by my sisters,

POSTHUMOUS POEMS EDITED BY CHARLOTTE BRONTË I '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. Where wilt thou go, my harassed heart— What thought, what scene invites thee now? What spot, or near or far apart, Has rest for thee

II THE BLUEBELL The Bluebell 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; The violet has a fragrant breath, But fragrance will not cheer. The trees are bare, the sun is cold