Gloomily the clouds are sailing <br /> O'er the dimly moonlit sky; <br />Dolefully the wind is wailing; <br /> Not another sound is nigh; <br />Only I can hear it sweeping <br /> Heathclad hill and woodland dale, <br />And at times the nights's sad weeping <br /> Sounds above its dying wail. <br /> <br />Now the struggling moonbeams glimmer; <br /> Now the shadows deeper fall, <br />Till the dim light, waxing dimmer, <br /> Scarce reveals yon stately hall. <br /> <br />All beneath its roof are sleeping; <br /> Such a silence reigns around <br />I can hear the cold rain steeping <br /> Dripping roof and plashy ground. <br /> <br />No: not all are wrapped in slumber; <br /> At yon chamber window stands <br />One whose years can scarce outnumber <br /> The tears that dew his clasped hands. <br /> <br />From the open casement bending <br /> He surveys the murky skies, <br />Dreary sighs his bosom rending; <br /> Hot tears gushing from his eyes. <br /> <br />Now that Autumn's charms are dying, <br /> Summer's glories long since gone, <br />Faded leaves on damp earth lying, <br /> Hoary winter striding on, -- <br /> <br />'Tis no marvel skies are lowering, <br /> Winds are moaning thus around, <br />And cold rain, with ceaseless pouring, <br /> Swells the streams and swamps the ground; <br /> <br />But such wild, such bitter grieving <br /> Fits not slender boys like thee; <br />Such deep sighs should not be heaving <br /> Breasts so young as thine must be. <br /> <br />Life with thee is only springing; <br /> Summer in thy pathway lies; <br />Every day is nearer bringing <br /> June's bright flowers and glowing skies. <br /> <br />Ah, he sees no brighter morrow! <br /> He is not too young to prove <br />All the pain and all the sorrow <br /> That attend the steps of love.<br /><br />Anne Brontë<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gloomily-the-clouds/
