Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/156

146 Thou say'st, that when a sinless child,

I duly bent the knee,

And prayed to what in marble smiled

Cold, lifeless, mute, on me.

I did. But listen! Children spring

Full soon to riper youth;

And, for Love's vow and Wedlock's ring,

I sold my early truth.

'Twas not a grey, bare head, like thine,

Bent o'er me, when I said,

"That land and God and Faith are mine,

For which thy fathers bled."

I see thee not, my eyes are dim;

But, well I hear thee say,

"O daughter, cease to think of him

Who led thy soul astray.

Between you lies both space and time;

Let leagues and years prevail

To turn thee from the path of crime,

Back to the Church's pale."

And, did I need that thou shouldst tell

What mighty barriers rise

To part me from that dungeon-cell,

Where my loved Walter lies?

And, did I need that thou shouldst taunt

My dying hour at last,

By bidding this worn spirit pant

No more for what is past?