Poetry

HEATHCLIFF TO KATHERINE (A poem)

HEATHCLIFF TO KATHERINE

(FOR WUTHERING HEIGHTS)

Six feet in the earth my Catherine lay

And yet I loved her more

For it seemed, than till that day

I ne’er had loved her before.

And turning from her grave

Beside the churchyard yew

A blooming gril, whose hair was wet

With points of morning dew.

A basket on head she bare,

Her brow was smooth and white

To see the child so very fair,

It was pure delight!

She seemed very happy

Never cared, as she was ever free;

She seemed as happy as a wave

That dances on a sea.

Suddenly I realized those eyes

That were same as her mother,

And now I felt, a life in my hand lie

And have to take another breath.

Heathcliff & Catherine

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