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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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138. A. G. A. to A. S.
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140. Rodric Lesley. 1830
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142. M. G. for the U. S.
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143. At Castle Wood
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145. A. G. A. to A. S.
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147. E. W. to A. G. A.
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148. The Death of A. G. A.
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151. D. G. C. to J. A.
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154. From a Dungeon Wall in the Southern College
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162. A. E. and R. C.
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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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172

161.

[A thousand sounds of happiness]

A thousand sounds of happiness
And only one of real distress;
One hardly uttered groan—
But that has hushed all vocal joy,
Eclipsed the glory of the sky
And made me think that misery
Rules in our world alone!
About his face the sunshine glows
And in his hair the south wind blows
And violet and wild wood-rose
Are sweetly breathing near
Nothing without suggests dismay
If he could force his mind away
From tracking farther day by day
The desert of Despair—
173

Too truly agonized to weep
His eyes are motionless as sleep,
His frequent sighs long-drawn and deep
Are anguish to my ear
And I would soothe but can I call
The cold corpse from its funeral pall
And cause a gleam of hope to fall
With my consoling tear?
O Death, so many spirits driven
Through this false world, their all had given
To win the everlasting haven
To sufferers so divine—
Why didst thou smite the loved the blest
The ardent and the happy breast
That full of hope desired not rest
And shrank appalled from thine?
At least, since thou wilt not restore
In mercy launch one arrow more
Life's conscious Death it wearies sore
It tortures worse than thee—
Enough of storms have bowed his head,
Grant him at last a quiet bed
Beside his early stricken Dead
Even where he yearns to be!
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