Author Emily Brontë Battle had passed from the height, TheAnd still did evening fall;While heaven, with its hosts of night,Gloriously canopied all.The dead around were sleepingOn heath and granite grey;And the dying their last watch were keepingIn the closing of the day. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments