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
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Is rolling on its course of light
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 !
ELLIS. Emily Jane Brontë (1818-1848)
