a death scene

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  1. emily bronte şiiri.

    "O day! he cannot die
    When thou so fair art shining!
    O Sun, in such a glorious sky,
    So tranquilly declining;

    He cannot leave thee now,
    While fresh west winds are blowing,
    And all around his youthful brow
    Thy cheerful light is glowing!

    Edward, awake, awake--
    The golden evening gleams
    Warm and bright on Arden's lake--
    Arouse thee from thy dreams!

    Beside thee, on my knee,
    My dearest friend, I pray
    That thou, to cross the eternal sea,
    Wouldst yet one hour delay:

    I hear its billows roar--
    I see them foaming high;
    But no glimpse of a further shore
    Has blest my straining eye.

    Believe not what they urge
    Of Eden isles beyond;
    Turn back, from that tempestuous surge,
    To thy own native land.

    It is not death, but pain
    That struggles in thy breast--
    Nay, rally, Edward, rouse again;
    I cannot let thee rest!"

    One long look, that sore reproved me
    For the woe I could not bear--
    One mute look of suffering moved me
    To repent my useless prayer:

    And, with sudden check, the heaving
    Of distraction passed away;
    Not a sign of further grieving
    Stirred my soul that awful day.

    Paled, at length, the sweet sun setting;
    Sunk to peace the twilight breeze:
    Summer dews fell softly, wetting
    Glen, and glade, and silent trees.

    Then his eyes began to weary,
    Weighed beneath a mortal sleep;
    And their orbs grew strangely dreary,
    Clouded, even as they would weep.

    But they wept not, but they changed not,
    Never moved, and never closed;
    Troubled still, and still they ranged not--
    Wandered not, nor yet reposed!

    So I knew that he was dying--
    Stooped, and raised his languid head;
    Felt no breath, and heard no sighing,
    So I knew that he was dead.
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