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Emily Jane Bronte - Yes, Holy Be Thy Resting Place
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Yes, holy be thy resting place
    Wherever thou may`st lie;
    The sweetest winds breathe on thy face,
    The softest of the sky.

    And will not guardian Angles send
    Kind dreams and thoughts of love,
    Though I no more may watchful bend
    Thy longed repose above?

    And will not heaven itself bestow
    A beam of glory there
    That summer`s grass more green may grow,
    And summer`s flowers more fair?

    Farewell, farewell, `tis hard to part
    Yet, loved one, it must be:
    I would not rend another heart
    Not even by blessing thee.

    Go! We must break affection`s chain,
    Forget the hopes of years:
    Nay, grieve not - willest thou remain
    To waken wilder tears

    This herald breeze with thee and me,
    Roved in the dawning day:
    And thou shouldest be where it shall be
    Ere evening, far away.
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