Great poetry of Charles Pierre Baudelaire
Blog,  English

Poem by Emily Bronte

That wind I used to hear it swelling

With joy divinely deep

You might have seen my hot tears welling

But rapture made me weep

I used to love on winter nights

To lie and dream alone

Of all the hopes and real delights

My early years had known

And oh above the rest of those

That coming time should [bear]

Like heaven’s own glorious stars they rose

Still beaming bright and fair

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