Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/375

Rh LXIII

TO A WREATH OF SNOW

voyager of heaven!

O silent sign of winter skies!

What adverse wind thy sail has driven

To dungeons where a prisoner lies?

Methinks the hands that shut the sun

So sternly from this morning's brow

Might still their rebel task have done

And checked a thing so frail as thou.

They would have done it had they known

The talisman that dwelt in thee,

For all the suns that ever shone

Have never been so kind to me!

For many a week and many a day

My heart was weighed with sinking gloom

When morning rose in mourning grey

And faintly lit my prison room.

But angel like, when I awoke,

Thy silvery form, so soft and fair,

Shining through darkness, sweetly spoke

Of cloudy skies and mountains bare;