"Stars" by Emily Bronte

 

                        Ah! why, because the dazzling sun
                        Restored our Earth to joy,
                        Have you departed, every one,
                        And left a desert sky?

                        All through the night, your glorious eyes
                        Were gazing down in mine,
                        And, with a full heart’s thankful sighs,
                        I blessed that watch divine.

                        I was at peace, and drank your beams
                        As they were life to me;
                        And reveled in my changeful dreams,
                        Like petrel on the sea.

                        Thought followed thought, star followed star,
                        Through boundless regions, on;
                        While one sweet influence, near and far,
                        Thrilled through, and proved us one!

                        Why did the morning dawn to break
                        So great, so pure, a spell;
                        And scorch with fire the tranquil cheek,
                        Where your cool radiance fell?

                        Blood-red, he rose, and, arrow-straight,
                        His fierce beams struck my brow;
                        The soul of nature sprang, elate,
                        But mine sank sad and low!

                        My lids closed down, yet through their veil
                        I saw him, blazing, still,
                        And steep in gold the misty dale,
                        And flash upon the hill.

                        I turned me to the pillow, then,
                        To call back night, and see
                        Your worlds of solemn light, again,
                        Throb with my heart, and me!

                        It would not do—the pillow glowed,
                        And glowed both roof and floor;
                        And birds sang loudly in the wood,
                        And fresh winds shook the door;

                        The curtains waved, the wakened flies
                        Were murmuring round my room,
                        Imprisoned there, till I should rise,
                        And give them leave to roam.

                        Oh, stars, and dreams, and gentle night;
                        Oh, night and stars, return!
                        And hide me from the hostile light
                        That does not warm, but burn;

                        That drains the blood of suffering men;
                        Drinks tears, instead of dew;
                        Let me sleep through his blinding reign,
                        And only wake with you!