Where cobblestones met Christ
Tis desolate even now
Twas even drearier then
The Bronte's parsonage
Amongst stone sentinels
Carved upon earth's rocky bones
Thus born of a tiny garden
And written by candlelight
The imaginings of minds
Ennobled by bleakness
Imprisoned in the gloom
Were blooms fated to fade
This flowering of young women
Among rolling fields and heather
Grew metaphors and allegories
To meet in ardour upon pagan crag
Heathered moors and heathen men
For where else might minds go
If not to the stitch, brush or pen
High on the Yorkshire moors
Where the wind holds sway
In Howarth's deep catacombs
I visited Howarth in Yorkshire on Thursday where the famous Bronte sisters lived. The setting of the parsonage is very atmospheric. Well worth a visit.
