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POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË
301
LI
Heaven's glory shone where he was laid
In life's decline!
I turned me from that young saint's bed
To gaze on thine.
It was a summer day that saw
His spirit's flight;
Thine parted in a time of awe,
A winter's night.
Upon her soothing breast
She lulled her little child,
A winter sunset in the west
A heavy glory smiled.
I gazed within thine earnest eyes
And read the sorrow brooding there;
I heard thy young breast torn with sighs,
And envied such despair.
Go to the grave in youth's bare woe!
That dream was written long ago.
December 19, 1839.
