All overgrown by cunning moss

148 All overgrown by cunning moss, All interspersed with weed, The little cage of "Currer Bell" In quiet "Haworth" laid. Gathered from many wanderings— Gethsemane can tell Thro' what transporting anguish She reached the Asphodel! Soft falls the sounds of Eden Upon her puzzled ear— Oh what an afternoon for Heaven, When "Bronte" entered there!