Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/86

32 And this shall be my dream to-night;

I'll think the heaven of glorious spheres

Is rolling on its course of light

In endless bliss, through endless years;

I'll think, there's not one world above,

Far as these straining eyes can see,

Where Wisdom ever laughed at Love,

Or Virtue crouched to Infamy;

Where, writhing 'neath the strokes of Fate,

The mangled wretch was forced to smile;

To match his patience 'gainst her hate,

His heart rebellious all the while.

Where Pleasure still will lead to wrong,

And helpless Reason warn in vain;

And Truth is weak, and Treachery strong;

And Joy the surest path to Pain;

And Peace, the lethargy of Grief;

And Hope, a phantom of the soul;

And Life, a labour, void and brief;

And Death, the despot of the whole!