The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë, Geraldine

XLV

GERALDINE

'Twas night, her comrades gathered all
Within their city's rocky wall;
When flowers were closed and day was o'er
Their joyous hearts awoke the more.

But lonely in her distant cave
She heard the river's restless wave
Chafing its banks with dreamy flow,
Music for mirth and wail for woe.

Palm trees and cedars towering high
Deepened the gloom of evening's sky,
And thick did raven ringlets veil
Her forehead, drooped like lily pale.

Yet I could hear my lady sing;
I knew she did not mourn;
For never yet from sorrow's spring
Such witching notes were born.

Thus poured she in that cavern wild
The voice of feelings warm,
As bending o'er her beauteous child
She clasped its sleeping form.

'Why sank so soon the summer sun
From our Zedona's skies?
I was not tired, my darling one,
Of gazing in thine eyes.

'Methought the heaven, whence thou hast come,
Was lingering there awhile;
And earth seemed such an alien home
They did not dare to smile.

'Methought each moment, something strange
Within their circles shone,
And yet, through every magic change,
They were my darling's own.

'Methought—what thought I not, sweet love?
My whole heart centred there;
I breathed not but to send above
One gush of ardent prayer.

'Bless it! My gracious God!' I cried.
'Preserve Thy mortal shrine,
For Thine own sake, be Thou its guide,
And keep it still divine—

'Say, sin shall never blanch that cheek,
Nor suffering change that brow.
Speak, in Thy mercy, Maker, speak,
And seal it safe from woe.

'Why did I doubt? In God's control
Our mutual fates remain,
And pure as now, my Angel's soul
Must go to heaven again.'

The revellers in the city slept,
My lady in her woodland bed;
I watching o'er her slumber wept,
As one who mourns the dead.

August 17 1841.

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