A little while, a little while,
The weary task is put away,
And I can sing and I can smile,
Alike, while I have holiday.
Why wilt thou go, my harassed heart,
What thought, what scene invites thee now?
What spot, or near or far,
Has rest for thee, my weary brow?
There is a spot, mid barren hills,
Where winter howls, and driving rain;
But if the dreary tempest chills,
There is a light that warms again.
The house is old, the trees are bare,
Moonless above bends twilight's dome;
But what on earth is half so dear,
So longed for, as the hearth of home?
The mute bird sitting on the stone,
The dank moss dripping from the wall,
The thorn-trees gaunt, the walks o'er grown,
I love them, how I love them all!
Still, as I mused, the naked room,
The alien firelight died away,
And from the midst of cheerless gloom
I passed to bright unclouded day.
A little and a lone green lane
That opened on a common wide;
A distant, dreamy, dim blue chain
Of mountains circling every side;
A heaven so clear, an earth so calm,
So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air;
And, deepening still the dream-like charm,
Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.
That was the scene, I knew it well;
I knew the turfy pathway's sweep
That, winding o'er each billowy swell,
Marked out the tracks of wandering sheep.
Could I have lingered but an hour,
It well had paid a week of toil;
But Truth has banished Fancy's power:
Restraint and heavy task recoil.
Even as I stood with raptured eye,
Absorbed in bliss so deep and dear,
My hour of rest had fleeted by,
And back came labour, bondage, care.
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Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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It is really a deep work revelaing the various aspects and various instances of life which are a matter of concerns in respect to the interest of the poet.The thoughts are travelling its pace through the poetic and musical flow through and through bringing a kind of melody of memmories. The beauty of this write lies in the structure of the flow which is very very praiseworthy. The flow of the write is very impressive and to the point too. I really appreciate this write. prabhudayal khattar
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Great "feeling" here .. stone cold wildness I happen to be reading with my daughter The Secret Garden which has wonderful imagery with regard to the moors.
I'm loving reading these old poetry poems .. who ever is promoting
keep it up.! -
beatiful poem.... what more can i say! Cheryl
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A fantastic piece of artestry, I would imagine this was written in 1838 (when over half her remaining poems were written.) It would also explain the mood of the poem, in 1837 Emily spent time at Law Hill school, where Charlotte describes as "hard labour from six in the morning to eleven at night." And Emily soon left after feeling homesick.
I assume the
There is a spot, mid barren hills,
Where winter howls, and driving rain;
But if the dreary tempest chills,
There is a light that warms again.
Are her family home where her heart wishes to return.
This is a very indearing poem, the images are set steadfastly in the wild moorland in which she lives, this helps portray the coldness she finds in the outside world.
Or, could this be an insight into the character of Chatherine Earnshaw after her (unloving) marrage?
Andrew
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Hello Budlem,
Emily was one of the Bronte sisters.
oldpoetry.com/author/Emily%20Jane%20Bronte
Andrew
oldpoetryteam -
Very well written and well worded. Any relation to the Bronte sisters? ~Bud~
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A NICE WRITTEN POEM! this poem got well written imagery and nice rhymes
much love to all ya work and keep up the good work
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