All overgrown by cunning moss by Emily Dickinson
Here is Emily Dickinson’s memorial to Charlotte Brontë.
All overgrown by cunning moss
By Emily Dickinson
All overgrown by cunning moss,
All interspersed with weed,
The little cage of “Currer Bell”
In quiet “Haworth” laid.
This Bird—observing others
When frosts too sharp became
Retire to other latitudes—
Quietly did the same—
But differed in returning—
Since Yorkshire hills are green—
Yet not in all the nests I meet—
Can Nightingale be seen—
[Alternative second and third stanzas]
Or—
Gathered from many wanderings—
Gethsemane can tell
Thro’ what transporting anguish
She reached the Asphodel!
Soft fell the sounds of Eden
Opon her puzzled ear—
Oh what an afternoon for Heaven,
When “Bronte” entered there!
