The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/O hinder me by no delay!
LXIII
O hinder me by no delay!
My horse is weary of the way,
And still his breast must stem the tide
Whose waves are foaming far and wide.
Leagues off I heard their thundering roar,
As fast they burst upon the shore;
A stronger steed than mine might dread
To brave them in their boiling bed.
Thus spoke the traveller, but in vain;
The stranger would not turn away,
Still clung she to his bridle rein
And still entreated him to stay.
Here with my knee upon the stone
I bid adieu to feelings gone;
I leave with thee my tears and pain,
And rush into the world again.
O come again! what chains withhold
The steps that used so fleet to be?
Come, leave thy dwelling dark and cold,
Once more to visit me.
Was it with the fields of green,
Blowing flower and budding tree,
With the summer heaven serene,
That thou didst visit me?
No; 'twas not the flowery plain:
No; 'twas not the fragrant air:
Summer skies will come again,
But thou wilt not be there.
······
How loud the storm sounds round the hall!
From arch to arch, from door to door,
Pillar and roof and granite wall
Rock like a cradle in its roar.
The elm-tree by the haunted well
Greets no returning summer skies;
Down with a rush the giant fell
And stretched across the path it lies.
Hardly had passed the funeral train,
So long delayed by wind and snow;
And how they'll reach the house again
To-morrow's sun perhaps will show.
······
What use is it to slumber here,
Though the heart be sad and weary?
What use is it to slumber here,
Though the day rise dark and dreary?
For that mist may break when the sun is high,
And this soul forget its sorrow,
And the rosy ray of the closing day
May promise a brighter morrow.
····· O evening, why is thy light so sad?
Why is the sun's last ray so cold?
Hush! our smile is as ever glad,
But my heart is growing old.