Emily Brontë

“ The mist is thick and the wind is chill;
And the heart of thy friend from the dawning of day
Has sighed for sorrow that thou wert away.
Lord of Elbe, how pleasent to me
The sound of thy blithesome step would be,
Rustling the heath that only now
Moans as the night gusts over it blow.
Bright are the fires in thy noble home;
I see them far off, and it deepens the gloom;
Shining like stars through the high forest boughs,
Gladder they grow in the park's repose. ”

“ Did we heed the tempests beating,
⁠Howling round our spirits' home?
No; that tree with branches riven
⁠Whitening in the whirl of snow,
As it tossed against the heaven,
⁠Sheltered happy hearts below.
And at Autumn's mild returning
⁠Shall our feet forget the way?
And in Cynthia's silvan morning,
⁠Geraldine, wilt thou delay?
October 17, 1838.
This work was published before January 1, 1928, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. ”