Emily Brontë - Mild the mist upon the hill lyrics

Mild the mist upon the hill Telling not of storms tomorrow; No, the day has wept its fill, Spent its store of silent sorrow. O, I'm gone back to the days of youth, I am a child once more, And 'neath my father's sheltering roof And near the old hall door I watch this cloudy evening fall After a day of rain; Blue mists, sweet mists of summer pall The horizon's mountain chain. The damp stands on the long green gra** As thick as morning's tears, And dreamy scents of fragrance pa** That breathe of other years.