Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/240

184 LII

A SERENADE

Guardians are asleep,

So I'm come to bid thee rise;

Thou hast a holy vow to keep,

Ere yon crescent quit the skies.

Though clouds careering wide

Will hardly let her gleam,

She's bright enough to be our guide

Across the mountain stream.

O waken, dearest, wake!

What means this long delay?

Say, wilt thou not for true love's sake

Chase idol fears away?

Think not of future grief

Entailed on present joy;

An age of woe were only brief

Its memory to destroy.

And neither Hell nor Heaven,

Though both conspire at last,

Can take the bliss that has been given,

Can rob us of the past.