On the Death of Emily Jane Brontë By Charlotte Brontë

163 years ago today Emily Brontë turned 'her dying eyes reluctantly from the pleasant sun'as Charlotte put it. 

 

"Dec. 21st, 1848.

"Emily suffers no more from pain or weakness now. She never will suffer more in this world. She is gone, after a hard short conflict. She died on Tuesday, the very day I wrote to you. I thought it very possible she might be with us still for weeks; and a few hours afterwards, she was in eternity. Yes; there is no Emily in time or on earth now. Yesterday we put her poor, wasted, mortal frame quietly under the church pavement. We are very calm at present. Why should we be otherwise? The anguish of seeing her suffer is over; the spectacle of the pains of death is gone by; the funeral day is past. We feel she is at peace. No need now to tremble for the hard frost and the keen wind. Emily does not feel them. She died in a time of promise. We saw her taken from life in its prime. But it is God's will, and the place where she is gone is better than that she has left.

EG-Charlotte-

My darling, thou wilt never know

The grinding agony of woe

   That we have borne for thee.

Thus may we consolation tear

E’en from the depth of our despair

   And wasting misery.

The nightly anguish thou art spared

When all the crushing truth is bared

   To the awakening mind,

When the galled heart is pierced with grief,

Till wildly it implores relief,

   But small relief can find.

Nor know’st thou what it is to lie

Looking forth with streaming eye

   On life’s lone wilderness.

‘Weary, weary, dark and drear,

How shall I the journey bear,

   The burden and distress?’

Then since thou art spared such pain

We will not wish thee here again;

   He that lives must mourn.

God help us through our misery

And give us rest and joy with thee

   When we reach our bourne!

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