Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/262

206 And thou art gone—with all thy pride;

Thou, so adored, so dignified!

Cold as the earth, unweeting now

Of love, or joy, or mortal woe.

'For what thou wert I would not grieve,

But much for what thou wert to be;

That life so stormy and so brief,

That death has wronged us more than thee.

'Thy passionate youth was nearly past,

The opening sea seemed smooth at last;

Yet vainly flowed the calmer wave

Since fate had not decreed to save.

'And vain too must the sorrow be

Of those who live to mourn for thee;

But Gondal's foe shall not complain

That thy dear blood was poured in vain.'