Plead For Me

By Emily Jane Bronte

OH, thy bright eyes must answer now,

 When Reason, with a scornful brow,

 Is mocking at my overthrow !

 Oh, thy sweet tongue must plead for me

 And tell why I have chosen thee !

 Stern Reason is to judgment come,

 Arrayed in all her forms of gloom :

 Wilt thou, my advocate, be dumb ?

 No, radiant angel, speak and say

Why I did cast the world away,—

Why I have persevered to shun

The common paths that others run ;

And on a strange road journeyed on,

Heedless, alike of wealth and power —

Of glory's wreath and pleasure's flower.

These, once, indeed, seemed Beings Divine ;

And they, perchance, heard vows of mine,

And saw my offerings on their shrine ;

But careless gifts are seldom prized,

And mine were worthily despised.

So, with a ready heart, I swore

To seek their altar-stone no more ;

And gave my spirit to adore

Thee, ever-present, phantom thing—

My slave, my comrade, and my king.

A slave, because I rule thee still ;

Incline thee to my changeful will,

And make thy influence good or ill :

A comrade, for by day and night

Thou art my intimate delight,—

My darling pain that wounds and sears,

And wrings a blessing out from tears

By deadening me to earthly cares ;

And yet, a king, though Prudence well

Have taught thy subject to rebel.

And am I wrong to worship where

Faith cannot doubt, nor hope despair,

Since my own soul can grant my prayer ?

Speak, God of visions, plead for me,

And tell why I have chosen thee !