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by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Fair sinks the summer evening now
NOTE: the footnotes have been removed from this text; return to general view
Language: English 
Our translations:  CHI
Fair sinks the summer evening now
In softened glory round my home
The sky upon its holy brow
Wears not a cloud that speaks of gloom

The old tower shrined in golden light
Looks down on the descending sun
So gently evening blends with night
You scarce could say that day is done

And this is just the joyous hour
When we were wont to burst away
To 'scape from labour's tyrant power
And cheerfully go out to play

Then why is all so sad and lone?
No merry footstep on the stair
No laugh no heart awaking tone
But voiceless silence everywhere

I've wandered round our garden ground
And still it seemed at every turn
That I should greet approaching feet
And words upon the breezes borne

In vain they will not come today
And mornings beams will rise as drear
But tell me are they gone for aye
Our sun blinks through the mists of care?

Ah no reproving Hope doth say
Departed joys 'tis fond to mourn
When every storm that hides their ray
Prepares a more divine return

About the headline (FAQ)

View text with all available footnotes
Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848) [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]

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Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

This text was added to the website: 2004-03-22
Line count: 28
Word count: 183

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