Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/272

216 LXIII

me by no delay!

My horse is weary of the way,

And still his breast must stem the tide

Whose waves are foaming far and wide.

Leagues off I heard their thundering roar,

As fast they burst upon the shore;

A stronger steed than mine might dread

To brave them in their boiling bed.

Thus spoke the traveller, but in vain;

The stranger would not turn away,

Still clung she to his bridle rein

And still entreated him to stay.

Here with my knee upon the stone

I bid adieu to feelings gone;

I leave with thee my tears and pain,

And rush into the world again.

O come again! what chains withhold

The steps that used so fleet to be?

Come, leave thy dwelling dark and cold,

Once more to visit me.

Was it with the fields of green,

Blowing flower and budding tree,

With the summer heaven serene,

That thou didst visit me?