POEMS. 193

LIV. CHARLOTTE BRONTE'S GRAVE.

A LL overgrown by cunning moss, ^~* All interspersed with weed, The little cage of ' Currer Bell,' In quiet Haworth laid.

This bird, observing others,

When frosts too sharp became, Retire to other latitudes,

Quietly did the same,

But differed in returning ;

Since Yorkshire hills are green, Yet not in all the nests I meet

Can nightingale be seen.

Gathered from many wanderings,

Gethsemane can tell Through what transporting anguish

She reached the asphodel ! 13

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