"Often rebuked, yet always back returning"
--a poem by Emily Bronte
Often rebuked, yet always back returning
To those first feelings that were born with me,
And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning
For idle dreams of things which cannot be:
Today, I will not seek the shadowy region;
Its unsustaining vastness waxes drear;
And visions rising, legion after legion,
Bring the unreal world too strangely near.
And not in paths of high morality,
And not among the half-distinguished faces,
The clouded forms of long-past history.
It vexes me to choose another guide:
Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding;
Where the wild wind blows on the mountain-side.
More glory, and more grief, than I can tell:
The earth that wakes one human heart to feeling
Can center both the worlds of Heaven and Hell.