Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/101

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47
POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË


So stood I, in Heaven's glorious sun,
 And in the glare of Hell;
My spirit drank a mingled tone,
Of seraph's song, and demon's moan;
What my soul bore, my soul alone
 Within itself may tell!


Like a soft air above a sea,
 Tossed by the tempest's stir;
A thaw-wind, melting quietly
The snow-drift on some wintry lea;
No: what sweet thing resembles thee,
 My thoughtful Comforter?


And yet a little longer speak,
 Calm this resentful mood;
And while the savage heart grows meek,
For other token do not seek,
But let the tear upon my cheek
 Evince my gratitude!