Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/291

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And forms and faces lost for ever
Seem arising round me now
As if to bid farewell for ever
Before my spirit go.
Oh! how they gush upon my heart
And overflow my eyes.
I must not keep, I cannot part
With such wild sympathies.
I know it's called a sin and shame
To mourn o'er what I mourn.

Aware her last hour approaching fast,
Upon her dying bed she lies;
Are her wild dreams of western skies,
The shallow wrecks of memories
That glitter through the gloom
Cast o'er them in the cold decay
Which signs the sickening soul away
To meet its early tomb?
What pleasant airs upon her face
With freshening fondness play,
As they would kiss each transient grace
Before it fades away!
And backward rolled each deep red fold,
Begilt with tasselled cords of gold,
The open arch displays;
O'er bower and trees that orb divine
His own unclouded lights decline
Before her glistening gaze.