Emily Brontė
Often rebuked


The night is darkening round me


High waving heather


Riches I hold in light esteem


No coward soul is mine




Often rebuked, yet always back returning
Often rebuked, yet always back returning To those first feelings that were born with me, And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning For idle dreams of things which cannot be: To-day, 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-distinguished 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 gray 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 feeling Can centre both the worlds of Heaven and Hell.





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The night is darkening round me
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.





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High waving heather, 'neath stormy blasts bending
High waving heather, 'neath stormy blasts bending, Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars; Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending, Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending, Man's spirit away from its drear dongeon sending, Bursting the fetters and breaking the bars. All down the mountain sides, wild forest lending One mighty voice to the life-giving wind; Rivers their banks in the jubilee rending, Fast through the valleys a reckless course wending, Wider and deeper their waters extending, Leaving a desolate desert behind. Shining and lowering and swelling and dying, Changing for ever from midnight to noon; Roaring like thunder, like soft music sighing, Shadows on shadows advancing and flying, Lightning-bright flashes the deep gloom defying, Coming as swiftly and fading as soon.

December 13, 1836.


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Riches I hold in light esteem
Riches I hold in light esteem And Love I laugh to scorn And lust of Fame was but a dream That vanished with the morn– And if I pray, the only prayer That moves my lips for me Is–"Leave the heart that now I bear And give me liberty." Yes, as my swift days near their goal 'Tis all that I implore Through life and death, a chainless soul With courage to endure!

March 1, 1841.


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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 0 God within my breast Almighty ever-present Deity Life, that in me hast 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 thy 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 moon 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 Since thou art Being and Breath And what thou art may never be destroyed.


Charlotte Brontė notes, "The following poem (No coward soul is mine) is the last my sister Emily ever wrote."
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Emily Brontė - Biography


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Anne Brontė - Last lines


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   © Gaston D'Haese: 30-10-2012.
Update: 17-01-2016.