'Tireless sleep, I hear her weep
Across dark plains in her lonesome keep.
So far away her soul in dismay
Where echoing moans keep Cathy at bay.'
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A fine poem on Wuthering Heights; the language and descriptions are well chosen.
oh, I agree. Wuthering Heights is just waiting for poetical prose... and you've done such a good job of it too. The tones, the words...