The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë, May flowers are opening

XLIX

May flowers are opening,
And leaves unfolding free;
There are bees in every blossom,
And birds on every tree.

The sun is gladly shining,
The stream sings merrily;
And lonely I am pining,
And all is dark to me.

O cold, cold is my heart!
It will not, cannot rise;
It feels no sympathy
With those refulgent skies.

Dead, dead is my joy,
I long to be at rest;
I wish the damp earth covered
This desolated breast.

If I were quite alone,
It might not be so drear,
When all hope was gone;
At least I could not fear.

But the glad eyes around me
Must weep as mine have done,
And I must see the final gloom
Eclipse their morning sun.

If heaven would rain on me
That future storm of care,
So their fond hearts were free,
I'd be content to bear.

Alas! as lightning withers
The young and aged tree,
Both they and I shall fall beneath
The fate we cannot flee.

January 25, 1839, E.J. Brontë.

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