Time On Haworth Moor

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

[Update July 30th 2018: Today marks 100 years since Emily Bronte was born, 30/7/1818.]

Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights has to be one of the greatest novels of all time. It is a firm favourite of mine, even though I confess to have been partially corrupted by the (original) screen version starring Merle Oberon and Lawrence Olivier.]

Emily Bronte 1818 -1848

(Image taken from the Internet)

On the few occasions I have been able to visit Haworth, it has been a magical experience. Once I have closed my eyes to the commercialisation of its Bronte connections, I am transported into another world. I cannot quite confess to another century as Merle Oberon and Lawrence Olivier are welcome intruders. [In my view, the original screen version of Wuthering Heights - and its splendid soundtrack - is far superior to any subsequent remakes]. The village is pretty enough but the moor is magnificent, in all its moods. Who cannot hear a brooding Heathcliff calling to his Cathy on the wind?

Well, yes, I am an incurable romantic.

Of course, Wuthering Heights is no cosy romance. It takes a (very) perceptive look at the darker side of love and passion...no mean feat for any writer, let alone a 19th century parson’s daughter leading a sheltered life.

Richer than riches is the gift of imagination, especially when combined with a natural talent for creativity and a keen observation of human nature and society. The Bronte sisters had all these, and we should be thankful they chose to give expression to all three in novels and poems that must rank among the finest contributions of the 19th century to the written word.

TIME ON HAWORTH MOOR

Sun on the moor
as lovers kiss, stir a music
of heartbeats
words cannot contain;
mist on the moor
where lovers working
an ages-old magic-in-situ,
snails under stones

Wind on the moor
as love’s moods give the lie
to that old dare,

stones shall not weep;
rain on the moor,
lovers pulling blinds

on worlds of words barely

paying lip service

Snow on the moor,
testament to such passions
no world could save

but as poems in the wind;
sun on the moor,
mocking Time's thralls
that see no cause to applaud

a snail getting a life

Copyright R N Taber 2000, 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000; this rev. version, 2019]