Emily Jane Brontë

Come walk with me
There's only thee to bless my spirit now
We used to love on winter nights
To wander trought the snow
Can we not go back to old delights?

The clouds rush dark and wild
They fleck with shade our mountain heights
The same as long ago
And on the horizon rest at last
In looming masses piled
While moonbeams flash and fly so fast
We scarce can say they smiled.


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