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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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89. Written on Returning to the P. of I. on the 10th of January 1827

The busy day has hurried by
And hearts greet kindred hearts once more
And swift the evening hours should fly
But what turns every gleaming eye
So often to the door?
And then so quick away—and why
Does sudden silence chill the room?
And laughter sink into a sigh—
And merry words to whispers die—
And gladness change to gloom?
O we are listening for a sound
We know shall ne'er be heard again
Sweet voices in the halls resound;
Fair forms, fond faces gather round
But all in vain—in vain!
Their feet shall never waken more
The echoes in these galleries wide,
Nor dare the snow on the mountain's brow,
Nor skim the river's frozen flow,
Nor wander down its side—
They who have been our life—our soul—
Through summer-youth, from childhood's spring—
Who bound us in one vigorous whole
To stand 'gainst Tyranny's control
For ever triumphing—
104

Who bore the brunt of battle's fray
The first to fight, the last to fall
Whose mighty minds—with kindred ray
Still led the van in Glory's way—
The idol chiefs of all—
They, they are gone! not for a while
As golden suns at night decline
And even in death our grief beguile
Foretelling, with a rose-red smile
How bright the morn will shine—
No these dark towers are lone and lorn;
This very crowd is vacancy;
And we must watch and wait and mourn
And half look out for their return;
And think their forms we see—
And fancy music in our ear
Such as their lips could only pour
And think we feel their presence near
And start to find they are not here
And never shall be more!
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