Plead For Me

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OH, thy bright eyes must answer now,
 When Reason, with a scornful brow,
 Is mocking at my overthrow !
 Oh, thy sweet tongue must plead for me
 And tell why I have chosen thee !

 Stern Reason is to judgment come,
 Arrayed in all her forms of gloom :
 Wilt thou, my advocate, be dumb ?
 No, radiant angel, speak and say
Why I did cast the world away,-

Why I have persevered to shun
The common paths that others run ;
And on a strange road journeyed on,
Heedless, alike of wealth and power -
Of glory's wreath and pleasure's flower.

These, once, indeed, seemed Beings Divine ;
And they, perchance, heard vows of mine,
And saw my offerings on their shrine ;
But careless gifts are seldom prized,
And mine were worthily despised.

So, with a ready heart, I swore
To seek their altar-stone no more ;
And gave my spirit to adore
Thee, ever-present, phantom thing-
My slave, my comrade, and my king.

A slave, because I rule thee still ;
Incline thee to my changeful will,
And make thy influence good or ill :
A comrade, for by day and night
Thou art my intimate delight,-

My darling pain that wounds and sears,
And wrings a blessing out from tears
By deadening me to earthly cares ;
And yet, a king, though Prudence well
Have taught thy subject to rebel.

And am I wrong to worship where
Faith cannot doubt, nor hope despair,
Since my own soul can grant my prayer ?
Speak, God of visions, plead for me,
And tell why I have chosen thee !

© Emily Jane Brontë