Meet us on:
 
Entire Site
    Try our fun game

    Dueling book covers…may the best design win!

    Random Quote
    "You are young, my son, and, as the years go by, time will change and even reverse many of your present opinions. Refrain therefore awhile from setting yourself up as a judge of the highest matters."
     

    Subscribe to Our Newsletter

    Follow us on Twitter

    Never miss a good book again! Follow Read Print on Twitter

    A Death-scene

    by Emily Bronte
    • Rate it:
    • Average Rating: 1.9 out of 5 based on 4 ratings
    • 1 Favorite on Read Print
    Launch Reading Mode
    Published in the 1846 collection Poems By Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell under Emily's nom de plume 'Ellis Bell'.

    ***

    "O day! he cannot die
    When thou so fair art shining!
    O Sun, in such a glorious sky,
    So tranquilly declining;

    He cannot leave thee now,
    While fresh west winds are blowing,
    And all around his youthful brow
    Thy cheerful light is glowing!

    Edward, awake, awake--
    The golden evening gleams
    Warm and bright on Arden's lake--
    Arouse thee from thy dreams!

    Beside thee, on my knee,
    My dearest friend, I pray
    That thou, to cross the eternal sea,
    Wouldst yet one hour delay:

    I hear its billows roar--
    I see them foaming high;
    But no glimpse of a further shore
    Has blest my straining eye.

    Believe not what they urge
    Of Eden isles beyond;
    Turn back, from that tempestuous surge,
    To thy own native land.

    It is not death, but pain
    That struggles in thy breast--
    Nay, rally, Edward, rouse again;
    I cannot let thee rest!"

    One long look, that sore reproved me
    For the woe I could not bear--
    One mute look of suffering moved me
    To repent my useless prayer:

    And, with sudden check, the heaving
    Of distraction passed away;
    Not a sign of further grieving
    Stirred my soul that awful day.

    Paled, at length, the sweet sun setting;
    Sunk to peace the twilight breeze:
    Summer dews fell softly, wetting
    Glen, and glade, and silent trees.

    Then his eyes began to weary,
    Weighed beneath a mortal sleep;
    And their orbs grew strangely dreary,
    Clouded, even as they would weep.

    But they wept not, but they changed not,
    Never moved, and never closed;
    Troubled still, and still they ranged not--
    Wandered not, nor yet reposed!

    So I knew that he was dying--
    Stooped, and raised his languid head;
    Felt no breath, and heard no sighing,
    So I knew that he was dead.
    If you're writing a A Death-scene essay and need some advice, post your Emily Bronte essay question on our Facebook page where fellow bookworms are always glad to help!

    Top 5 Authors

    Top 5 Books

    Book Status
    Finished
    Want to read
    Abandoned

    Are you sure you want to leave this group?