Mild the mist upon the hill
Emily Brontë
1818 to 1848
Track 1
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And near the old hall door
Spent its store of silent sorrow.
And 'neath my father's sheltering roof
I watch this cloudy evening fall
As thick as morning's tears,
O, I'm gone back to the days of youth,
The horizon's mountain chain.
Telling not of storms tomorrow;
No, the day has wept its fill,
I am a child once more,
And dreamy scents of fragrance pass
Mild the mist upon the hill
Blue mists, sweet mists of summer pall
That breathe of other years.
After a day of rain;
The damp stands on the long green grass