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The Visionary

Silent is the house: all are laid asleep:  One alone looks out o’er the snow-wreaths deep,  Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze  That whirls the wildering drift, and bends the groaning trees.    Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor;          Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door;  The little lamp burns straight, its rays shoot strong and far:  I trim it well, to be the wanderer’s guiding-star.    Frown, my haughty sire! chide, my angry dame!  Set your slaves to spy; threaten me with shame:         But neither sire nor dame nor prying serf shall know,  What angel nightly tracks that waste of frozen snow.    What I love shall come like visitant of air,  Safe in secret power from lurking human snare;  What loves me, no word of mine shall e’er betray,        Though for faith unstained my life must forfeit pay.    Burn, then, little lamp; glimmer straight and clear—  Hush! a rustling wing stirs, methinks, the air:  He for whom I wait, thus ever comes to me;  Strange Power!

I trust thy might; trust thou my constancy.

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Emily Jane Bronte

Emily Jane Brontë (30 July 1818 – 19 December 1848) was an English novelist and poet who is best known for her only novel, Wuthering Heights, no…

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