Set by John Mitchell (1941-) op. 71 (1989), from Seven Journeys to Earth, part 3, no. 1.
Text by Emily Brontë (1818-1848)
Sleep not dream not this bright day
Will not cannot last for aye
Bliss like thine is bought by years
Dark with torment and with tears
Sweeter far than placid pleasure
Purer higher beyond measure
Yet alas the sooner turning
Into hopeless endless mourning
I love thee boy for all divine
All full of God thy features shine
Darling enthusiast holy child
Too good for this world's warring wild
Too heavenly now but doomed to be
Hell-like in heart and misery
And what shall change that angel brow
And quench that spirit's glorious glow
Relentless laws that disallow
True virtue and true joy below
And blame me not if when the dread
Of suffering clouds thy youthful head
If when by crime and sorrow tossed
Thy wandering bark is wrecked and lost
I too depart I too decline
And make thy path no longer mine
'Tis thus that human minds will turn
All doomed alike to sin and mourn
Yet all with long gaze fixed afar
Adoring virtue's distant star
