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POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË
LXVI
Had there been falsehood in my breast
No doubt had marr'd my word;
This spirit had not lost its rest,
These tears had never flowed.
I gazed upon the cloudless moon
And loved her all the night,
Till morning came and radiant noon,
And I forgot her light.
No, not forgot eternally
Beneath its mighty glare:
But could the day seem dark to me
Because the night was fair?
July 26, 1843.
