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