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Emily Jane Bronte - The Wind Was Rough Which Tore
Work rating: Medium

The wind was rough which tore
    That leaf from its parent tree
    The fate was cruel which bore
    The withering corpse to me

    We wander on we have no rest
    It is a dreary way

    What shadow is it
    That ever moves before [my] eyes
    It has a brow of ghostly whiteness
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