Emily Brontë

Album cover art for "Emily Brontë" by Ted Hughes

Ted Hughes - Non-Music, Poetry (Literature)

Emily Brontë

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Lyrics

The wind on Crow Hill was her darling. His fierce, high tide in her ear was her secret. But his kiss was fatal. Through her dark Paradise ran The stream she loved too well That bit her breast. The shaggy sodden king of that kingdom Followed through the wall And lay on her love-sick bed. The curlew trod her womb. The stone swelled under her heart. Her death is a baby-cry on the moor.

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Credits

Writers
  • Ted Hughes