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To a Wreath of Snow | Emily Brontë

Variation 2



O transient voyager of heaven!
⁠O silent sign of winter skies!
What adverse wind thy sail has driven
⁠To dungeons where a prisoner lies?

Methinks the hands that shut the sun
⁠So sternly from this morning's brow
Might still their rebel task have done
⁠And checked a thing so frail as thou.

They would have done it had they known
⁠The talisman that dwelt in thee,
For all the suns that ever shone
⁠Have never been so kind to me!

For many a week and many a day
⁠My heart was weighed with sinking gloom
When morning rose in mourning grey
⁠And faintly lit my prison room.

But angel like, when I awoke,
⁠Thy silvery form, so soft and fair,
Shining through darkness, sweetly spoke
⁠Of cloudy skies and mountains bare;