I Cannot Love Thee; Thou 'rt Worse

I Got The Sexton, Who Was Digging Linton's Grave, To Remove The Earth Off Her Coffin Lid, And I Opened It. I Thought, Once, I Would Have Stayed There, When I Saw Her Face Again - It Is Hers Yet - He Had Hard Work To Stir Me; But He Said It Would Change, If The Air Blew On It.

I Gave Him My Heart, And He Took And Pinched It To Death; And Flung It Back To Me. People Feel With Their Hearts, Ellen, And Since He Has Destroyed Mine, I Have Not Power To Feel For Him.

Cold Inthe Earthand The Deepsnow Piled Abovethee, Far, Far, Removed, Cold In The Dreary Grave! Have I Forgot, My Only Love, To Love Thee, Severed At Last Bytime's All-serving Wave?

The Intense Horror Of Nightmare Came Over Me: I Tried To Draw Back My Arm, But The Hand Clung To It, And A Most Melancholy Voice Sobbed, 'let Me In - Let Me In!' 'who Are You?' I Asked, Struggling, Meanwhile, To Disengage Myself. 'catherine Linton,' It Replied, Shiveringly (why Did I Think Of Linton? I Had Read Earnshaw Twenty Times For Linton) - 'i'm Come Home: I'd Lost My Way On The Moor!' As It Spoke, I Discerned, Obscurely, A Child's Face Looking Through The Window.

I Am Now Quite Cured Of Seeking Pleasure In Society, Be It Country Or Town. A Sensible Man Ought To Find Sufficient Company In Himself.