A Celebration of Women Writers

"Song." by Emily Jane Brontë (1818-1848)

First Publication: Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell London: Aylott and Jones, 8, Paternoster Row, 1846. pp. 43-44.

Editor: Mary Mark Ockerbloom

[Page 43]

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 first her form retain;
They thought their hearts could ne'er recall
  The light of joy again.

They thought the tide of grief would flow
  Unchecked through future years;
But where is all their anguish now,
  And where are all their tears ?

Well, let them fight for honour's breath,
  Or pleasure's shade pursue
The dweller in the land of death
  Is changed and careless too.

And, if their eyes should watch and weep
  Till sorrow's source were dry

[Page 44]

She would not, in her tranquil sleep,
  Return a single sigh !

Blow, west-wind, by the lonely mound,
  And murmur, summer-streams
There is no need of other sound
  To sooth my lady's dreams.

ELLIS.

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Editor: Mary Mark Ockerbloom