I'll not weep that thou art going to
There's nothing lovely here;
And doubly will the dark world
While thy heart suffers there.
I'll not weep, because the
Must always end in gloom;
And, follow out the happiest story-
It closes with a tomb!
And I am weary of the anguish
Increasing winters bear;
Weary to watch the spirit languish
Through years of dead despair.
So, if a tear, when thou art dying,
Should haply fall from me,
It is but that my soul is sighing,
To go and rest with thee.
From Emily Bronte, The Visionary