---------------------------------------------------------------------------- This file was prepared by Keygen Ltd LLC for The Proud Reader™ project. https://theproudreader.com/ https://k3y93n.com/ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHnUg4W9wkn2ISDoCxucd_A https://www.bitchute.com/theproudreader/ https://rumble.com/c/TheProudReader https://odysee.com/@TheProudReader:c https://www.minds.com/TheProudReader https://gab.com/TheProudReader https://parler.com/profile/TheProudReader https://www.patreon.com/TheProudReader https://www.subscribestar.com/theproudreader https://www.paypal.com/biz/fund?id=5GFSVWEHUPK66 This document is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International license (CC BY-SA 4.0) https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/ Keygen Ltd LLC provides no warranty as to the accuracy of the information or text included in this document. It is provided "as is" and is for entertainment purposes. However, the text below this paragraph is in the public domain, is not subject to the above license, and may be used freely on its own as you see fit—for commercial and non-commercial purposes. Only this document as a whole falls under the CC BY-SA 4.0. If you do use the below text, we would still appreciate a nod since we did the hard work and fixed OCR errors in many cases, but attribution is only required if you modify and redistribute this file. Enjoy! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Remembrance Emily Bronte published in Poems, by Currer, Ellis, and Acton, page 31-32 by London : Smith, Elder and Co., 1846 COLD in the earth—and the deep snow piled above thee, Far, far, removed, cold in the dreary grave ! Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, Severed at last by Time’s all-severing wave ? Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover Over the mountains, on that northern shore, Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover Thy noble heart forever, ever more ? Cold in the earth—and fifteen wild Decembers, From those brown hills, have melted into spring : Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers After such years of change and suffering! Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee, While the world’s tide is bearing me along ; Other desires and other hopes beset me, Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong ! No later light has lightened up my heaven, No second morn has ever shone for me ; All my life’s bliss from thy dear life was given, All my life’s bliss is in the grave with thee. But, when the days of golden dreams had perished, And even Despair was powerless to destroy ; Then did I learn how existence could be cherished, Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy. Then did I check the tears of useless passion— Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine ; Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten Down to that tomb already more than mine. And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain ; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again ? Ellis.