Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/290

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There's something in this glorious hour
That fills the soul with heavenly power,
And dims our eyes with sudden tears
That centre all the joys of years.
For we feel at once that there lingers still,
Like summer's sunshine o'er a hill,
A glory round life's pinnacle;
And we know, though we be yet below,
That we may not always linger so,
For still Ambition beckons on,
Is this a height that may be won?
And Hope still whispers in our ear,
'Others have been—thou mayst be there.'

Land of the west! Thy glorious skies,
Their dreamy depths of azure blue,
Their sunlit isles of paradise,
That float in golden glory through.
These depths of azure o'er my sight
Their musing moments seem to expand,
Revealing all their radiance bright
In cloud and gorgeous land.
Land of the west! thine evening sun
Brings thousand voiceless thoughts to mind
Of what I've said and seen and done

In years by time long left behind;