Prisoner, The – (A Fragment) (Emily Bronte Poem)
In the dungeon-crypts, idly did I stray, Reckless of the lives wasting there away; "Draw the ponderous bars! open, Warder ...
In the dungeon-crypts, idly did I stray, Reckless of the lives wasting there away; "Draw the ponderous bars! open, Warder ...
Oh, thy bright eyes must answer now, When Reason, with a scornful brow, Is mocking at my overthrow! Oh, thy ...
The moon is full this winter night; The stars are clear, though few; And every window glistens bright, With leaves ...
The evening passes fast away, 'Tis almost time to rest; What thoughts has left the vanished day, What feelings, in ...
Mild the mist upon the hill Telling not of storms tomorrow; No, the day has wept its fill, Spent its ...
I'll not weep that thou art going to leave me, There's nothing lovely here; And doubly will the dark world ...
How beautiful the earth is still, To thee - how full of happiness! How little fraught with real ill, Or ...
I see around me tombstones grey Stretching their shadows far away. Beneath the turf my footsteps tread Lie low and ...
In summer's mellow midnight, A cloudless moon shone through Our open parlour window, And rose-trees wet with dew. I sat ...
Me thinks this heart should rest awhile So stilly round the evening falls The veiled sun sheds no parting smile ...
Still let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear Year after year in gloom and desolate despair; A ...
Come hither, child--who gifted thee With power to touch that string so well? How darest thou rouse up thoughts in ...
Well hast thou spoken, and yet, not taught A feeling strange or new; Thou hast but roused a latent thought, ...
O, thy bright eyes must answer now, When Reason, with a scornful brow, Is mocking at my overthrow! O, thy ...
I am the only being whose doom No tongue would ask no eye would mourn I never caused a thought ...
The day is done, the winter sun Is setting in its sullen sky; And drear the course that has been ...
Yes, holy be thy resting place Wherever thou may'st lie; The sweetest winds breathe on thy face, The softest of ...
Cold in the earth-and the deep snow piled above thee, Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave! Have I ...
Death! that struck when I was most confiding In my certain faith of joy to be - Strike again, Time's ...
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