The Poetry Corner

Yes, Holy Be Thy Resting Place

By Emily Bronte

Yes, holy be thy resting place Wherever thou may'st lie; The sweetest winds breathe on thy face, The softest of the sky. And will not guardian Angles send Kind dreams and thoughts of love, Though I no more may watchful bend Thy longed repose above? And will not heaven itself bestow A beam of glory there That summer's grass more green may grow, And summer's flowers more fair? Farewell, farewell, 'tis hard to part Yet, loved one, it must be: I would not rend another heart Not even by blessing thee. Go! We must break affection's chain, Forget the hopes of years: Nay, grieve not - willest thou remain To waken wilder tears This herald breeze with thee and me, Roved in the dawning day: And thou shouldest be where it shall be Ere evening, far away.