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Emily Jane Brontë: The Complete Poems

Edited by Janet Gezari
Brontë, Emily (1818-1848)
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expand sectionI. 
I. Poems Published in 1846
collapse sectionII. 
II. Dated Poems
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23. A. G. A. to A. E.
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27. Lines
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32. To a Wreath of Snow
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33. Song by Julius Angora
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46. Song to A. A.
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48. A. G. A. to A. S.
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49. Gleneden's Dream
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61. Douglas's Ride
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66. Song by Julius Brenzaida
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67. Song by J. Brenzaida to G. S.
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71. F. De Samara to A. G. A.
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82. Song
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84. To the Blue Bell
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87. Lines by Claudia
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89. Written on Returning to the P. of I. on the 10th of January 1827
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92. A Farewell to Alexandria
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112. Written in the Gaaldine Prison Caves to A. G. A.
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118. The Night-Wind
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125. Geraldine
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126. Rosina
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127. A. S. to G. S.
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128. H. A. and A. S.
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129. Written in Aspin Castle
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131. On the Fall of Zalona
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133. To A. S. 1830
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134. E. G. to M. R.
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136. To A. G. A.
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140. Rodric Lesley. 1830
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143. At Castle Wood
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148. The Death of A. G. A.
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154. From a Dungeon Wall in the Southern College
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164. M. A. Written on the Dungeon Wall—N. C.
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165. Julian M. and A. G. Rochelle
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expand sectionIII. 
III. Undated Poems
expand sectionIV. 
IV. Poems of Doubtful Authorship

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81.

[From our evening fireside now]

From our evening fireside now,
Merry laugh and cheerful tone,
Smiling eye and cloudless brow,
Mirth and music all are flown:
Yet the grass before the door
Grows as green in April rain;
And as blithely as of yore
Larks have poured their day-long strain.
95

Is it fear, or is it sorrow
Checks the stagnant stream of joy?
Do we tremble that tomorrow
May our present peace destroy?
For past misery are we weeping?
What is past can hurt no more;
And the gracious heavens are keeping
Aid for that which lies before—
One is absent, and for one
Cheerless, chill is our hearthstone—
One is absent, and for him
Cheeks are pale and eyes are dim—
Arthur, brother, Gondal's shore
Rested from the battle's roar—
Arthur, brother, we returned
Back to Desmond lost and mourned:
Thou didst purchase by thy fall
Home for us and peace for all;
Yet, how darkly dawned that day—
Dreadful was the price to pay!
Just as once, through sun and mist
I have climbed the mountain's breast
Still my gun with certain aim
Brought to earth the fluttering game:
But the very dogs repined,
Though I called with whistle shrill
Listlessly they lagged behind,
Looking backward o'er the hill—
Sorrow was not vocal there:
Mute their pain and my despair
But the joy of life was flown
He was gone, and we were lone—
96

So it is by morn and eve—
So it is in field and hall—
For the absent one we grieve,
One being absent saddens All—
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