What sacramental hurt that brings The terror of the truth of things Had changed thee? Secret be it yet. ’T was thine, upon a headland set, To view no isles of man’s delight, With lyric foam in rainbow flight, But all a-swing, a-gleam, mid slow uproar, Black sea, and curved uncouth sea-bitten shore.
This poem is in the public domain.
About this Poem
"Emily Brontë" first appeared in Happy Endings (Houghton Mifflin, 1909).
Louise Imogen Guiney
Guiney, a poet, essayist, literary critic, and biographer, was born in Boston, Massachusetts in 1861.
Date Published: 1909-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/emily-bronte