Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/239

From Wikisource
Jump to: navigation, search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
183
POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË


But if to weep above her grave
 Be such a priceless boon,
Go, shed thy tears in Ocean's wave
 And they will reach it soon.


Yet midst thy wild repining,
 Mad though that anguish be,
Think heaven on her is shining
 Even as it shines on thee.


With thy mind's vision pierce the deep,
 Look now she rests below,
And tell me, why such blessed sleep
 Should cause such bitter woe?

May 1, 1843.