At Castle Wood

Poem By Emily Jane Brontë

The day is done, the winter sun
Is setting in its sullen sky;
And drear the course that has been run,
And dim the hearts that slowly die.

No star will light my coming night;
No morn of hope for me will shine;
I mourn not heaven would blast my sight,
And I ne'er longed for joys divine.

Through life's hard task I did not ask
Celestial aid, celestial cheer;
I saw my fate without its mask,
And met it too without a tear.

The grief that pressed my aching breast
Was heavier far than earth can be;
And who would dread eternal rest
When labour's hour was agony?

Dark falls the fear of this despair
On spirits born of happiness;
But I was bred the mate of care,
The foster-child of sore distress.

No sighs for me, no sympathy,
No wish to keep my soul below;
The heart is dead in infancy,
Unwept-for let the body go.

Comments about At Castle Wood

Night of despair so well expressed.
" Unwept - for let the body go" .. very sad poem, masterly expressed by Emily as only she could...
great poem indeed. tony
congratulations Emily Jane Brontë
So well writter about the lone journey. Every word has to speak and describe the minute emotions it holds within itself. Lovely and beautiful.


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