Stanzas
Often rebuked, yet always back
To those first feelings that were born with me,
And leaving busy chase of wealth and
For idle dreams of things which cannot be:
Today,
I will seek not the shadowy region;
Its unsustaining vastness waxes drear;
And visions rising, legion after legion,
Bring the unreal world too strangely near.
I'll walk, but not in old heroic traces,
And not in paths of high morality,
And not among the half-distingusihed faces,
The clouded forms of long-past history.
I'll walk where my own nature would be leading:
It vexes me to choose another guide:
Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding;
Where the wild wind blows on the mountain side.
What have those lonely mountains worth revealing?
More glory and more grief than I can tell:
The earth that wakes one human heart to
Can centre both the worlds of heaven and hell.
Emily Jane Bronte
Other author posts
The Bluebell
The Bluebell is the sweetest That waves in summer air: Its blossoms have the mightiest To soothe my spirit's care
Loud without the wind was roaring
Loud without the wind was Through th'autumnal sky; Drenching wet, the cold rain pouring, Spoke of winter nigh
The Lady To Her Guitar
For him who struck thy foreign string, I ween this heart has ceased to care; Then why dost thou such feelings To my sad spirit—old Guitar
Stanzas
I'll not weep that thou art going to leave me, There's nothing lovely here; And doubly will the dark world grieve me, While thy heart suffers there