Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/163

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107
POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË

XIV

Sleep brings no joy to me,
Remembrance never dies,
My soul is given to mystery,
And lives in sighs.


Sleep brings no rest to me;
The shadows of the dead,
My wakening eyes may never see,
Surround my bed.


Sleep brings no hope to me,
In soundest sleep they come,
And with their doleful imag'ry
Deepen the gloom.


Sleep brings no strength to me,
No power renewed to brave;
I only sail a wilder sea,
A darker wave.


Sleep brings no friend to me
To soothe and aid to bear;
They all gaze on how scornfully,
And I despair.


Sleep brings no wish to fret
My harassed heart beneath;
My only wish is to forget
In endless sleep of death.

November 1837.