I wish I could give it three and a half because it's not quite a four but a bit better than a three.
The imagery was very dark but the language employed was beautiful. The rhyme schemes themselves were nothing complex which made the poems easier to follow for unrefined eyes such as mine, if you will.
Going back to what I said about imagery, the subject matter itself seems to revolve around death, dying and the fickleness/fragility of life. So, even though the poems are short for the most part, they make for a heavy read.
I think my favourite was Sympathy, which was slightly less dark than some of its companions. A really lovely little read.

'Then, journey on, if not relate,
Still, never broken-hearted!' ( )

I wish I could give it three and a half because it's not quite a four but a bit better than a three.
The imagery was very dark but the language employed was beautiful. The rhyme schemes themselves were nothing complex which made the poems easier to follow for unrefined eyes such as mine, if you will.
Going back to what I said about imagery, the subject matter itself seems to revolve around death, dying and the fickleness/fragility of life. So, even though the poems are short for the most part, they make for a heavy read.
I think my favourite was Sympathy, which was slightly less dark than some of its companions. A really lovely little read.

'Then, journey on, if not relate,
Still, never broken-hearted!' ( )

The fact that the Little Black Classics contain no contextualizing information -- no forward, no afterword, no footnotes, can be both a blessing and a curse. The texts must stand on their own. In this case, I feel I would have enjoyed the text much more with a little context. So many of these poems are telling stories that I didn't feel I had enough clues to parse.

To be fair, I read this book during Dewey's readathon, and I am starting to think that the readathon is not the right occasion for so much poetry. I wasn't ready to take the time to sit with these poems. When I sat down later to write this review, flipping though the book most of the poems are feeling much more approachable. Remembering that Emily is the sister responsible for Wuthering Heights, it should not be surprising that these poems are rather gothic in tone -- stirring language, dramatic landscapes, death, tragedy, prisons, and nature.

I think my favorite poem is actually this one:
Woods you need not frown on me
Spectral trees that so dolefully
Shake your heads in the dreary sky
You need not mock so bitterly ( )

I was at peace, and drank your beams
As they were life to me
And revelled in my changeful dreams
Like petrel on the sea.

Someone was trying to find the definition of love on TV today. And I laughed a sad laugh after hearing many people say they haven't loved anyone nor did they know what it meant. At times like these, when we read poetry that talks of forbidden love and a time when professing love wasn't the societal norm, it makes more sense to identify with its spirit.

Blood-red he rose, and arrow-straight,
His fierce beams struck my brow;
The soul of Nature sprang elate,
But mine sank sad and low!

Oh, Emily! I wish I could tell you how depressing I think Wuthering Heights is and how it sank me in a deep abyss, both times that I read it.

I turned me to the pillow then
To call back Night, and see
Your worlds of solemn light, again
Throb with my heart and me!

But she still comes across as an optimist self compared to the other poems in the book. Even when she writes about bluebells, distant hills and valleys, violets and summer air, she puts a spell of sad charm over me. ( )

Pretty but depressing poetry ( )