Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/118

62 'Play with the scented flower,

The young tree's supple bough,

And leave my human feelings

In their own course to flow.'

The wanderer would not heed me;

Its kiss grew warmer still.

'O come!' it sighed so sweetly;

'I'll win thee 'gainst thy will.

'Were we not friends from childhood?

Have I not loved thee long?

As long as thou, the solemn night,

Whose silence wakes my song.

'And when thy heart is resting

Beneath the church-aisle stone,

I shall have time for mourning,

And thou for being alone.'