Emily Bronte - My Comforter

 

Well hast thou spoken, and yet, not taught

A feeling strange or new;

Thou hast but roused a latent thought,

A cloud-closed beam of sunshine, brought

To gleam in open view.

Deep down, concealed within my soul,

That light lies hid from men;

Yet, glows unquenched - though shadows roll,

Its gentle ray cannot control,

About the sullen den.

Was I not vexed, in these gloomy ways

To walk alone so long?

Around me, wretches uttering praise,

Or howling o'er their hopeless days,

And each with Frenzy's tongue; -

A brotherhood of misery,

Their smiles as sad as sighs;

Whose madness daily maddened me,

Distorting into agony

The bliss before my eyes!

So stood I, in Heaven's glorious sun,

And in the glare of Hell;

My spirit drank a mingled tone,

Of seraph's song, and demon's moan;

What my soul bore, my soul alone

Within itself may tell!

Like a soft air, above a sea,

Tossed by the tempest's stir;

A thaw-wind, melting quietly

The snow-drift, on some wintry lea;

No: what sweet thing resembles thee,

My thoughtful Comforter?

And yet a little longer speak,

Calm this resentful mood;

And while the savage heart grows meek,

For other token do not seek,

But let the tear upon my cheek

Evince my gratitude!

      Emily Brontë’s 1844 poem "My Comforter" explores isolation, the agony of human society, and the inner sanctuary of the creative imagination acting as a guiding voice. The speaker feels deeply isolated from ordinary people, describing humanity as a "brotherhood of misery" whose noisy faith and daily despair drive her into a state of mental torment. The AI melody is silent and hidden in beauty.