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POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË
271
XXIX
Through the hours of yesternight
Hall and gallery blazed with light,
Every lamp its lustre showered
On the adorer and the adored.
None were sad that entered there,
All were loved and all were fair;
Some were dazzling like the sun;
Some shining down at summer noon.
Some were sweet as amber even,
Living in the depth of Heaven;
Some were soft, and kind, and gay,
Morning's face not more divine;
Some were like Diana's day,
Midnight moonlight's holy shrine.
