'The Night Wind'

In summer's mellow midnight
A cloudless moon shone through
Our open parlour window
And rosetrees wet with dew -

I sat in silent musing -
The soft wind waved my hair;
It told me Heaven was glorious
And sleeping Earth was fair -

I needed not its breathing
To bring such thoughts to me,
But still it whispered lowly
"How dark the woods will be! -

"The thick leaves in my murmur
Are rustling like a dream,
And all their myriad voices
Instinct with spirit seem."

I said "Go, gentle singer
Thy wooing voice is kind
But do not think its music
Has power to reach my mind -

"Play with the scented flower,
The young tree's supple bough -
And leave my human feelings
In their own course to flow."

The Wanderer would not leave me;
Its kiss grew warmer still -
"O come", it sighed so sweetly,
"I'll win thee 'gainst thy will."

"Have we not been from childhood friends?
Have I not loved thee long?
As long as though hast loved the night
Whose silence wakes my song.

"And when thy heart is resting
Beneath the churchyard stone
I shall have time for mourning
And thou for being alone."

   -- Emily Bronte