Emily Bronte's Poetry

Artemisia

Emily Bronte (1818 - 1848), was a British novelist and poet, best remembered for her one novel Wuthering Heights, an acknowledged classic of English literature. In fact, her poetry was also great , has been called one of the great English lyric poets and has found admirers among other poets. Emily Dickinson thought so highly of Emily Brontë's poetry that she chose "No coward soul" to be read at her funeral.

No Coward Soul Is Mine

No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven's glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

O God within my breast,
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life--that in me has rest,
As I--undying Life--have Power in Thee!

Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men's hearts: unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,

To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by thine infinity;
So surely anchored on
The steadfast rock of immortality.

With wide-embracing love
Thy spirit animates eternal years,
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.

Though earth and man were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou wert left alone,
Every existence would exist in Thee.

There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou--Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.

medline

压韵哪

Artemisia

I appreciate what her poetry told us rather than the rhyme.

Angelazhou

Both are great.

Owl

Hi, Artemisia, you like her stuff very much...

Artemisia

以下是引用Owl在2006-5-24 9:38:38的发言：
Hi, Artemisia, you like her stuff very much...

how come?

Artemisia

How Clear She Shines!

How clear she shines! How quietly
I lie beneath her guardian light;
While heaven and earth are whispering me,
"To morrow, wake, but dream to-night."

Yes, Fancy, come, my Fairy love!
These throbbing temples softly kiss;
And bend my lonely couch above,
And bring me rest, and bring me bliss.

The world is going; dark world, adieu!
Grim world, conceal thee till the day;
The heart thou canst not all subdue
Must still resist, if thou delay!

Thy love I will not, will not share;
Thy hatred only wakes a smile;
Thy griefs may wound--thy wrongs may tear,
But, oh, thy lies shall ne'er beguile!

While gazing on the stars that glow
Above me, in that stormless sea,
I long to hope that all the woe
Creation knows, is held in thee!

And this shall be my dream to-night;
I'll think the heaven of glorious spheres
Is rolling on its course of light
In endless bliss, through endless years;

I'll think, there's not one world above,
Far as these straining eyes can see,
Where Wisdom ever laughed at Love,
Or Virtue crouched to Infamy;

Where, writhing 'neath the strokes of Fate,
The mangled wretch was forced to smile;
To match his patience 'gainst her hate,
His heart rebellious all the while.

Where Pleasure still will lead to wrong,
And helpless Reason warn in vain;
And Truth is weak, and Treachery strong;
And Joy the surest path to Pain;

And Peace, the lethargy of Grief;
And Hope, a phantom of the soul;
And life, a labour, void and brief;
And Death, the despot of the whole!

Artemisia

Emily Bronte - Night is Darkening Around Me, The

The night is darkening round me, The wild winds coldly blow ; But a tyrant spell has bound me, And I cannot, cannot go.   The giant trees are bending Their bare boughs weighed with snow ; The storm is fast descending, And yet I cannot go.   Clouds beyond clouds above me, Wastes beyond wastes below ; But nothing drear can move me : I will not, cannot go.

Artemisia

Emily Bronte - Self-Interrogation

The evening passes fast away, 'Tis almost time to rest; What thoughts has left the vanished day, What feelings, in thy breast?   "The vanished day? It leaves a sense Of labour hardly done; Of little, gained with vast expense, - A sense of grief alone!   "Time stands before the door of Death, Upbraiding bitterly; And Conscience, with exhaustless breath, Pours black reproach on me:   "And though I've said that Conscience lies, And Time should Fate condemn; Still, sad Repentance clouds my eyes, And makes me yield to them!   "Then art thou glad to seek repose? Art glad to leave the sea, And anchor all thy weary woes In calm Eternity?

Artemisia

"Nothing regrets to see thee go -

Not one voice sobs "farewell,"

And where thy heart has suffered so,

Canst thou desire to dwell?"

 

"Alas! The countless links are strong

That bind us to our clay;

The loving spirit lingers long,

And would not pass away!

 

"And rest is sweet, when laurelled fame

Will crown the soldier's crest;

But, a brave heart, with a tarnished name,

Would rather fight than rest."

 

"Well, thou hast fought for many a year,

Hast fought thy whole life through,

Hast humbled Falsehood, trampled Fear;

What is there left to do?"

 

"'Tis true, this arm has hotly striven,

Has dared what few would dare;

Much have I done, and freely given,

But little learnt to bear!"

 

"Look on the grave, where thou must sleep,

Thy last, and strongest foe;

It is endurance not to weep,

If that repose seem woe.

 

"The long war closing in defeat,

Defeat serenely borne,

Thy midnight rest may still be sweet,

And break in glorious morn!"