[Picture: Facsimile of two pages of Emily Bronte's Diary]
'_May_ 21_st_, 1838.
GLENEDEN'S DREAM.
'Tell me, whether is it winter?
Say how long my sleep has been.
Have the woods I left so lovely
Lost their robes of tender green?
'Is the morning slow in coming?
Is the night time loth to go?
Tell me, are the dreary mountains
Drearier still with drifted snow?
'"Captive, since thou sawest the forest,
All its leaves have died away,
And another March has woven
Garlands for another May.
'"Ice has barred the Arctic waters;
Soft Southern winds have set it free;
And once more to deep green valley
Golden flowers might welcome thee."
'Watcher in this lonely prison,
Shut from joy and kindly air,
Heaven descending in a vision
Taught my soul to do and bear.
'It was night, a night of winter,
I lay on the dungeon floor,
And all other sounds were silent--
All, except the river's roar.
'Over Death and Desolation,
Fireless hearths, and lifeless homes;
Over orphans' heartsick sorrows,
Patriot fathers' bloody tombs;
'Over friends, that my arms never
Might embrace in love again;
Memory ponderous until madness
Struck its poniard in my brain.
Pages:
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239