Woe for the day! Regina's pride,
Regina's hope is in the grave;
And who shall rule my land beside,
And who shall save?
Woe for the day! with gory tears
My countless sons this day shall rue;
Woe for the day! a thousand years
Cannot repair what one shall do.
Woe for the day! 'twixt rain and wind
That sad lament was ringing;
It almost broke my heart to hear
Such dreamy, dreary singing.
June 10, 1837, E. J. Brontë.