Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/166

110 And I must go whence no returning

To soothe your grief or calm your care;

Nay, do not weep; that bitter mourning

Tortures my soul with wild despair.

No; tell me that when I am lying

In the old church beneath the stone,

You'll dry your tears and check your sighing,

And soon forget the spirit gone.

You've asked me long to tell what sorrow

Has blanched my cheek and quenched my eye;

And we shall never cry to-morrow,

So I'll confess before I die.

Ten years ago in last September

Fernando left his home and you,

And still I think you must remember

The anguish of that last adieu.

And well you know how wildly pining

I longed to see his face again,

Through all the Autumn drear deceiving

Its stormy nights and days of rain.

Down on the skirts of Areon's Forest

There lies a lone and lovely glade,

And there the hearts together nourished,

Their first, their fatal parting made.