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POEMS OF EMILY BRONTE
173
XLIX
ASPIN CASTLE
How do I love on summer night
To sit within this Norman door,
Whose sombre portal hides the light,
Thickening above me evermore.
How do I love to hear the flow
Of Aspin's water murmuring low,
And hours long listen to the breeze
That sighs in Beckden's waving trees.
To-night there is no wind to wake
One ripple in the lovely lake;
To-night the clouds, subdued and grey,
Starlight and moonlight shut away.
'Tis calm and still and almost drear,
So utter is the solitude;
But still I love to linger here,
And form my mood to Nature's mood.
There's a wild walk beneath the rocks
Following the bend of Aspin's side,
Tis worn by feet of mountain-flocks
That wander down to drink the tide.
