Charlotte, Emily, Anne

In Haworth where the sisters grew

I walked among a home

A refuge from sorrow

That knew no mercy

Your minds gave birth

To a fantastic world

An unseen realm of courtly love

A better Place to dwell

Where hopes and dreams

Lay beside the graves of friends

The better gems to shell

Those precious hallowed plots

That Crumble

And lay beneath the angry Rooks

Swelling the shadowed canopy high above

With their constant cacophonous calls

To their charges

How, though, was it like for you then,

Thinking on loves and kings

While just about on the uphill route

The stonemason’s hammer rings

With children’s names twelve deep.

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