Emily Jane Brontë (Эмили Бронте)

* * *

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night's decay
Ushers in a drearier day. 

1. Mild the Mist upon the Hill
2. Self-Interrogation
3. She Dried Her Tears
4. The Wanderer from the Fold
5. That Wind I Used to Hear It Swelling

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