Poem by Emily Jane Brontë

* * *

The sun has set, and the long grass now
Waves dreamily in the evening wind;
And the wild bird has flown from that old gray stone
In some warm nook a couch to find.

In all the lonely landscape round
I see no light and hear no sound,
Except the wind that far away
Come sighing o'er the healthy sea.

1. Often Rebuked, Yet Always Back Returning
2. Shall Earth No More Inspire Thee
3. The Wind Was Rough Which Tore
4. The Wanderer from the Fold
5. That Wind I Used to Hear It Swelling

Print

2722 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version