~spoken by Catherine Earnshaw, Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights
Emily Brontë's diary paper for June 26, 1837,
showing herself and Anne working at the dining room table
In this poem, is Brontë talking about the creative act? Prayer? Meditation? Dreams? It reminds me a bit of Emily Dickinson. I get the urge to capitalize the last two words.
I'm Happiest When Most Away
by Emily Brontë
I'm happiest when most away
I can bear my soul from its home of clay
On a windy night when the moon is bright
And the eye can wander through worlds of light—
When I am not and none beside—
Nor earth nor sea nor cloudless sky—
But only spirit wandering wide
Through infinite immensity.
Bookseed Studio has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Jan!