“Then let my winds caress thee —
Thy comrade let me be —
Since naught beside can bless thee
Return and dwell with me”

—  Emily Brontë

Shall Earth No More Inspire Thee (May 1841)

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Emily Brontë photo
Emily Brontë151
English novelist and poet 1818–1848

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“Truth is Thy primal word; at thy behest
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For Thee, and set my host of songs on high,
And let my psalmody come very nigh.
My praises as a coronal account,
And let my prayers as Thine incense mount.
Deem precious unto Thee the poor man's song,
As those that to thine altar did belong.
Rise, O my blessing, to the lord of birth,
The breeding, quickening, righteous force of earth.
Do Thou receive it with acceptant nod,
My choicest incense offered to my God.
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Falk, in a statement rich with ironies.
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To His Lute http://www.bartleby.com/40/198.html

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