Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/11



PILATE'S WIFE'S DREAM.

quenched my lamp, I struck it in that start

Which every limb convulsed, I heard it fall—­

The crash blent with my sleep, I saw depart

Its light, even as I woke, on yonder wall;

Over against my bed, there shone a gleam

Strange, faint, and mingling also with my dream.

It sunk, and I am wrapt in utter gloom;

How far is night advanced, and when will day

Retinge the dusk and livid air with bloom,

And fill this void with warm, creative ray?

Would I could sleep again till, clear and red,

Morning shall on the mountain-tops be spread!

I'd call my women, but to break their sleep,

Because my own is broken, were unjust;