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POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË
159
But God is not like human kind,
Man cannot read the Almighty mind;
Vengeance will never tortue thee,
Nor hunt thy soul eternally.
Then do not in this night of grief,
This time of overwhelming fear,
O do not think that God can leave
Forget, forsake, refuse to hear!
What have I dreamt? He lies asleep,
With whom my heart would vainly weep;
He rests, and I endure the woe,
That left his spirit long ago.
March 1840.
