Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/187

Rh Do I not see thee now? Thy black resplendent hair;

The glory-beaming brow; and smile how heavenly fair!

Thine eyes are turned away—those eyes I would not see;

Their dark, their deadly ray would more than madden me.

Then, go, deceiver, go! My hair is streaming wet;

My heart's blood flows to buy the blessing—to forget!

Oh! could that heart give back—give back again to thine,

One tenth part of the pain that clouds my dark decline.

Oh! could I see thy lids weighed down in cheerless woe;

Too full to hide their tears, too stern to overflow;

Oh! could I know thy soul with equal grief was torn,

This fate might be endured—this anguish might be borne.

How gloomy grows the night! 'Tis Gondal's wind that blows;

I shall not tread again the deep glens where it rose.