Emily

Emily

I wonder as I contemplate, your novel in my hand

How did such a thing your mind create in that windswept Yorkshire land?

Your life, your breath forged onto every page

Your heart, your soul your pen defied the Age.

Her dark hair and his dark eyes, now immortal in desire

Her passion, his rage, her choice, his lies,

She the wind and he the fire

From whence did you learn of such love and such hate?

Of loss and of revenge,

Of torment, and of fate?

Did the moors tell you secret things as you walked upon them all alone?

That life is a type of fault, and men’s hearts become as stone?

Did the things that you lost, give you things only for you?

Or was it the wind brought them, those fierce thoughts written true?

Those cold gray walls, that rose up from the earth

Became your world and the magical birth—

Of something eternal that moves me still today

And like you, I am happiest when I am most away.