Poem by Emily Jane Brontë

* * *

The sun has set, and the long grass now
Waves dreamily in the evening wind;
And the wild bird has flown from that old gray stone
In some warm nook a couch to find.

In all the lonely landscape round
I see no light and hear no sound,
Except the wind that far away
Come sighing o'er the healthy sea.

1. The Elder's Rebuke
2. The Wanderer from the Fold
3. If Grief For Grief Can Touch Thee
4. She Dried Her Tears
5. Often Rebuked, Yet Always Back Returning

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