Still beside that dreary water Stood he 'neath the cold moon ray Thinking on the deed of slaughter On his heart that darkly lay. Soft the voice that broke his dreaming Stealing through the silent air; Yet, before, the raven's screaming He had heard regardless there. Once his name was sweetly uttered, Then the echo died away, But each pulse in horror fluttered As the life would pass away.
- by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
Researcher for this text: Nick Peros
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 12
Word count: 69