How Clear She Shines

Portrait of Emily Bronte
Emily Bronte 1818–1848

How clear she shines! How quietly I lie beneath her guardian light; While heaven and earth are whispering me, " Tomorrow, wake, but, dream to-night." Yes, Fancy, come, my Fairy love! These throbbing temples softly kiss; And bend my lonely couch above And bring me rest, and bring me bliss.

The world is going; dark world, adieu! Grim world, conceal thee till the day; The heart, thou canst not all subdue, Must still resist, if thou delay!

Thy love I will not, will not share; Thy hatred only wakes a smile; Thy griefs may wound - thy wrongs may tear, But, oh, thy lies shall ne'er beguile! While gazing on the stars that glow Above me, in that stormless sea, I long to hope that all the woe Creation knows, is held in thee!

And, this shall be my dream to-night; I'll think the heaven of glorious spheres Is rolling on its course of light In endless bliss, through endless years; I'll think, there's not one world above, Far as these straining eyes can see, Where Wisdom ever laughed at Love, Or Virtue crouched to Infamy;

Where, writhing 'neath the strokes of Fate, The mangled wretch was forced to smile; To match his patience 'gainst her hate, His heart rebellious all the while. Where Pleasure still will lead to wrong, And helpless Reason warn in vain; And Truth is weak, and Treachery strong; And Joy the surest path to Pain; And Peace, the lethargy of Grief; And Hope, a phantom of the soul; And Life, a labour, void and brief; And Death, the despot of the whole!

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