Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/69

 VI

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linnet in the rocky dells,

The moor-lark in the air,

The bee among the heather bells

That hide my lady fair:

The wild deer browse above her breast;

The wild birds raise their brood;

And they, her smiles of love caressed,

Have left her solitude!

I ween, that when the grave's dark wall

Did first her form retain,

They thought their hearts could ne'er recall

The light of joy again.

They thought the tide of grief would flow

Unchecked through future years;

But where is all their anguish now,

And where are all their tears?

Well, let them fight for honour's breath,

Or pleasure's shade pursue—

The dweller in the land of death

Is changed and careless too.