My Lady's Grave

THE linnet in the rocky dells,
The moor-lark in the air,
The bee among the heather bells
That hide my lady fair:

The wild deer browse above her breast;
The wild birds raise their brood;
And they, her smiles of love caress'd,
Have left her solitude!

I ween that when the grave's dark wall
Did first her form retain,
They thought their hearts could ne'er recall
The light of joy again.

They thought the tide of grief would flow
Uncheck'd through future years;
But where is all their anguish now,
And where are all their tears?

Well, let them fight for honour's breath,
Or pleasure's shade pursue--
The dweller in the land of death
Is changed and careless too.

And if their eyes should watch and weep
Till sorrow's source were dry,
She would not, in her tranquil sleep,
Return a single sigh!

Blow, west wind, by the lonely mound:
And murmur, summer streams!
There is no need of other sound
To soothe my lady's dreams.

by Emily Jane Brontë

Comments (6)

This is Literature. The stuff we dream of writing ourselves. All these lines flow, all carry truth, and all impact us personally.
Exceptionally well-crafted writing that so precisely re-creates the peace and solitude of a wind-swept grave site, where mourning gives way to the ordinary transactions of continued living.
Her smiles of love! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
A fab poem..Good rhyming!
A beautiful drop. Enjoyed thoroughly.10+++
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