Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night's decay
Ushers in a drearier day.
This poem is in the public domain.
Emily Bronte (1818-1848) was an English writer best known for her only novel, Wuthering Heights. One of six children born to Patrick and Maria Bronte, Emily's love of words and gift of writing were hereditaryL her father, though a minister by profession, also published several books and wrote for newspapers, and her mother was an ardent poetry fan. All the Bronte siblings were writers in their own right, though critics generally concede that Emily was the most accomplished. Though Wuthering Heights received only middling reviews during her lifetime (sister Charlotte's Jane Eyre was far more successful), over time, the book has come to be revered and respected as a classic. Emily died of tuberculosis at the age of thirty, barely having begun to explore her literary potential.
I love this poem and composed a choral setting for upper voices. Here it is for those interested. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ganwq062o_M
Posted 11/01/2020 10:19 AM
I like how Emily doesn't explain her feelings. Maybe she was like me- the brevity of fall makes it all the more precious, and nothing is more wonderful than winter snow and cold, because it is different and also fleeting, it means Christmas and joy, and then spring.
Posted 10/13/2014 09:24 AM
The lack of rationale for the poet's preferences make this brief poem unremitting in its desire for dreariness. Powerful.
Posted 10/13/2014 06:01 AM