Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Emily Brontë. 18181848735. My Lady’s Grave
THE linnet in the rocky dells, | |
The moor-lark in the air, | |
The bee among the heather bells | |
That hide my lady fair: | |
The wild deer browse above her breast; | 5 |
The wild birds raise their brood; | |
And they, her smiles of love caress’d, | |
Have left her solitude! | |
I ween that when the grave’s dark wall | |
Did first her form retain, | 10 |
They thought their hearts could ne’er recall | |
The light of joy again. | |
They thought the tide of grief would flow | |
Uncheck’d through future years; | |
But where is all their anguish now, | 15 |
And where are all their tears? | |
Well, let them fight for honour’s breath, | |
Or pleasure’s shade pursue— | |
The dweller in the land of death | |
Is changed and careless too. | 20 |
And if their eyes should watch and weep | |
Till sorrow’s source were dry, | |
She would not, in her tranquil sleep, | |
Return a single sigh! | |
Blow, west wind, by the lonely mound: | 25 |
And murmur, summer streams! | |
There is no need of other sound | |
To soothe my lady’s dreams. |