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POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË
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A DAY DREAM
On a sunny brae alone I lay
One summer afternoon;
It was the marriage-time of May,
With her young lover, June.
From her mother's heart seemed loath to part
That queen of bridal charms,
But her father smiled on the fairest child
He ever held in his arms.
The trees did wave their plumy crests,
The glad birds carolled clear;
And I, of all the wedding guests,
Was only sullen there!
There was not one but wished to shun
My aspect void of cheer;
The very gray rocks, looking on,
Asked, 'What do you here?'
And I could utter no reply;
In sooth, I did not know
Why I had brought a clouded eye
To greet the general glow.
