The Two Children

By Emily Brontë

Heavy hangs the raindrop

From the burdened spray;

Heavy broods the damp mist

On uplands far away;

Heavy looms the dull sky,

Heavy rolls the sea—

And heavy beats the young heart

Beneath that lonely tree.

Never has a blue streak

Cleft the clouds since morn—

Never has his grim Fate

Smiled since he was born.

Frowning on the infant,

Shadowing childhood’s joy,

Guardian angel knows not

That melancholy boy.

Day is passing swiftly

Its sad and sombre prime;

Youth is fast invading

Sterner manhood’s time.

All the flowers are praying

For sun before they close,

And he prays too, unknowing,

That sunless human rose!

Blossoms, that the west wind

Has never wooed to blow,

Scentless are your petals,

Your dew as cold as snow.

Soul, where kindred kindness

No early promise woke,

Barren is your beauty

As weed upon the rock.

Wither, Brothers, wither,

You were vainly given—

Earth reserves no blessing

For the unblessed of Heaven!

Child of Delight! with sunbright hair,

And seablue, seadeep eyes;

Spirit of Bliss, what brings thee here,

Beneath these sullen skies?

Thou shouldst live in eternal spring,

Where endless day is never dim;

Why, seraph, has thy erring wing

Borne thee down to weep with him?

“Ah, not from heaven am I descended,

And I do not come to mingle tears;

But sweet is day, though with shadows blended;

And, though clouded, sweet are youthful years.

“I, the image of light and gladness,

Saw and pitied that mournful boy,

And I swore to take his gloomy sadness,

And give to him my beamy joy.

“Heavy and dark the night is closing;

Heavy and dark may its biding be:

Better for all from grief reposing,

And better for all who watch like me.

“Guardian angel, he lacks no longer;

Evil fortune he need not fear:

Fate is strong, but Love is stronger;

And more unsleeping than angel’s care.”

Source: Poets of the English Language (Viking Press, 1950)