The Wind Was Rough Which Tore

A poem by Emily Brontë

The wind was rough which tore
That leaf from its parent tree
The fate was cruel which bore
The withering corpse to me

We wander on we have no rest
It is a dreary way

What shadow is it
That ever moves before [my] eyes
It has a brow of ghostly whiteness

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'The Wind Was Rough Which Tore' by Emily Brontë

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy