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[for Emily Jane]
this was written after having to struggle through Wuthering Heights in English Lit....
Then I moved on to the other writings of Miss Brontë.... strange reaction...
especially writing to someone long dead (1982)
The night has fallen around us
And the wind it savagely blows;
A wicked mood is cast upon me,
One from which I cannot go.
Against the night, orbs on lamp posts loom,
Flickering forth a sickly yellow light;
A storm from deep within advances,
And still no hope for me to go.
Heavy leaded clouds drape the sky,
The paving just as dark below;
Such sight it fails to move me,
I cannot and I will not go.
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