A Celebration of Women Writers

"How Clear She Shines." by Emily Jane Brontë (1818-1848)

First Publication: Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell London: Aylott and Jones, 8, Paternoster Row, 1846. pp. 103-104.

Editor: Mary Mark Ockerbloom

[Page 103]


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 bring me bliss.

The world is going; dark world, adieu !
  Grim world, conceal thee till the day;
The heart, thou canst not all subdue,
  Must still resist, if thou delay !

Thy love I will not, will not share;
  Thy hatred only wakes a smile;
Thy griefs may woundthy wrongs may tear,
  But, oh, thy lies shall ne'er beguile !
While gazing on the stars that glow
  Above me, in that stormless sea,
I long to hope that all the woe
  Creation knows, is held in thee !

And, this shall be my dream to-night;
  I'll think the heaven of glorious spheres

[Page 104]

Is rolling on its course of light
  In endless bliss, through endless years;
I'll think, there's not one world above,
  Far as these straining eyes can see,
Where Wisdom ever laughed at Love,
  Or Virtue crouched to Infamy;

Where, writhing 'neath the strokes of Fate,
  The mangled wretch was forced to smile;
To match his patience 'gainst her hate,
  His heart rebellious all the while.
Where Pleasure still will lead to wrong,
  And helpless Reason warn in vain;
And Truth is weak, and Treachery strong;
  And Joy the surest path to Pain;
And Peace, the lethargy of Grief;
  And Hope, a phantom of the soul;
And Life, a labour, void and brief;
  And Death, the despot of the whole !



Editor: Mary Mark Ockerbloom