The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë, None of my kindred now can tell

XLVI

None of my kindred now can tell
The features once beloved so well
Those dark brown locks that used to deck
A snowy brow in ringlets small,
Now wildly shade my sunburnt neck,
And streaming down my shoulders fall.

The pure, bright red of noble birth
Has deepened to a gipsy glow,
And care is quenched the smile of mirth,
And tuned my heart to welcome woe.

Yet you must know in infancy
Full many an eye watched over me,
Sweet voices to my slumber sung,
My downy couch with silk was hung.

And music soothed me when I cried,
And when I laughed they all replied;
And 'rosy Blanche,' how oft was heard
In hall and bower that well-known word.

Through gathering summers still caress'd,
In kingly courts a favourite guest,
A Monarch's hand would pour for me
The richest gifts of royalty.

But clouds will come: too soon they came;
For not through age, and not through crime,
Is Blanche a now forgotten name;
True heart and brow unmarked by time,
These treasured blessings still are mine.

June 1838.

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