Poem by Emily Brontë (1818-1848)

Moonlight, Summer Moonlight


    'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
    All soft and still and fair;
    The solemn hour of midnight
    Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,

    But most where trees are sending
    Their breezy boughs on high,
    Or stooping low are lending
    A shelter from the sky.

    And there in those wild bowers
    A lovely form is laid;
    Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
    Wave gently round her head.



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Poetry by Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2022-05-16 at 00:00

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one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Last night (May 15, 2022) there was a total eclipse of the moon, at the "solemn hour of midnight," and it glowed blood red. I thought of this poem. I also of thought what the sky must of looked like at the time she wrote this, free of light pollution, how the moon and its phases must have been an integral part of daily life.

I think she was feeling nature at its best: soft summer air, trees in the breeze, moonlight, and the "wave gently around her head" was part of it, completely natural.

Uncle Meridian The PoetBay support member heart!
A companion-piece, perhaps, to Robert Burns's "Afton Water."

Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
I read it as romantic, rather than of demise. There is such a gentleness to this poem that I find really inspiring. There are even some little 'trills' like "...all soft and still and fair..." that are so pleasing to my mind. Isn't it funny (good!) how we can find such enjoyment reading poetry like this gentle thing, and also from more earthy stuff from more modern pens?

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Can anyone explain to me why 95 percent of nineteenth-century British poetry is about death?