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Speak of the North! a Lonely Moor

Speak of the North! A lonely moor
Silent and dark and tractless swells,
The waves of some wild streamlet pour
Hurriedly through its ferny dells.
 
Profoundly still the twilight air,
Lifeless the landscape; so we deem
Till like a phantom gliding near
A stag bends down to drink the stream.
 
And far away a mountain zone,
A cold, white waste of snow—drifts lies,
And one star, large and soft and lone,
Silently lights the unclouded skies.
Other works by Charlotte Brontë ...



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