Poem by Emily Jane Brontë

* * *

If grief for grief can touch thee,
If answering woe for woe,
If any truth can melt thee
Come to me now!

I cannot be more lonely,
More drear I cannot be!
My worn heart beats so wildly
'Twill break for thee--

And when the world despises--
When Heaven repels my prayer--
Will not mine angel comfort?
Mine idol hear?

Yes, by the tears I'm poured,
By all my hours of pain
O I shall surely win thee,
Beloved, again! 

1. The Visionary
2. The Wind Was Rough Which Tore
3. Well Hast Thou Spoke
4. Often Rebuked, Yet Always Back Returning
5. The Wanderer from the Fold

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