Pages: 55 pages
Published: February 26, 2015
Publisher: Penguin Little Black Classics
When I first heard that Penguin was releasing Little Black Classics, I was disappointed they would not be available. So when I made my trip across the pond and saw them in a bookstore, I grabbed the opportunity to grab as many little black books that I could. One of them was Emily Bronte’s The Night is Darkening Round Me.
The only thing I read by Emily Bronte was Wuthering Heights. I know most of her writings were poems and I never got a chance to read them until now and I am glad I did. These poems were great! You can feel the brutal honesty and see the vivid imagery while reading these poems. Bronte gives a variety of things you may be looking for in a poem: death, love, nature…it is all here. Some of the poems were haunting but yet so beautiful. They are not so many poems that leave me so captivated. I knew she was a great writer but never how great at poetry she truly was! And reading ties in perfectly with Halloween, so if you are looking for a Halloween gothic read, you are looking at the right book.
Just to show you what I mean, I will end this review with one of the great poems in this book:
By Emily Bronte
Death! that struck when I was most confiding.
In my certain faith of joy to be–
Strike again, Time’s withered branch dividing
From the fresh root of Eternity!
Leaves, upon Time’s branch, were growing brightly,
Full of sap, and full of silver dew;
Birds beneath its shelter gathered nightly;
Daily round its flowers the wild bees flew.
Sorrow passed, and plucked the golden blossom;
Guilt stripped off the foliage in its pride
But, within its parent’s kindly bosom,
Flowed for ever Life’s restoring tide.
Little mourned I for the parted gladness,
For the vacant nest and silent song–
Hope was there, and laughed me out of sadness;
Whispering, “Winter will not linger long!”
And, behold! with tenfold increase blessing,
Spring adorned the beauty-burdened spray;
Wind and rain and fervent heat, caressing,
Lavished glory on that second May!
High it rose–no winged grief could sweep it;
Sin was scared to distance with its shine;
Love, and its own life, had power to keep it
From all wrong–from every blight but thine!
Cruel Death! The young leaves droop and languish;
Evening’s gentle air may still restore–
No! the morning sunshine mocks my anguish-
Time, for me, must never blossom more!
Strike it down, that other boughs may flourish
Where that perished sapling used to be;
Thus, at least, its mouldering corpse will nourish
That from which it sprung–Eternity.
You will not be disappointed in this tiny little book!
Overall rating: 5 out of 5 stars.