Best Poems of the Brontë Sisters

Emily Brontë, Charlotte Brontë, Anne Brontë, Candace Ward

• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Year: 2015
• Print ISBN:
  9780486295299
• eBook ISBN:
  9780486159591
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: European Poetry
• Index: Literature

"In this collection of their poetry, published under gender-concealing pseudonyms, we get an intimate glimpse of their fears, hopes, faith, and desires." — Haunted Library
"This collection is not only for fans of the Brontë Sisters and classic rhyming poetry but also for readers that crave heartbreaking gothic angst." — Eastside Middle School
Among the most talented siblings in English literary history, the Brontë sisters are best remembered for their novels: Emily's Wuthering Heights, Charlotte's Jane Eyre, and Anne's Tenant of Wildfell Hall, among other works. It is less well known that the sisters also composed a considerable amount of fine poetry.
This volume contains forty-seven poems by all three sisters. Selections include Charlotte's "Presentiment," "Passion," two poems on the deaths of her sisters, and six more. There are twenty-three poems by Emily (considered the best poet of the three), including "Faith and Despondency" and "No Coward Soul Is Mine." The works of all three sisters share the qualities of intelligence, awareness, and heartfelt emotion, expressed in simple, highly readable verse. Gathered in this handy, inexpensive collection, the poems represent a superb introduction to a lesser-known aspect of the Brontës' literary art.

EMILY BRONTË

Faith and Despondency

“The winter wind is loud and wild,

Come close to me, my darling child;

Forsake thy books, and mateless play;

And, while the night is gathering grey,

We’ll talk its pensive hours away; —

“lernë, round our sheltered hall

November s gusts unheeded call;

Not one faint breath can enter here

Enough to wave my daughter’s hair,

And I am glad to watch the blaze

Glance from her eyes, with mimic rays;

To feel her cheek, so softly pressed,

In happy quiet on my breast.

“But, yet, even this tranquillity

Brings bitter, restless thoughts to me;

And, in the red fire’s cheerful glow,

I think of deep glens, blocked with snow;

I dream of moor, and misty hill,

Where evening closes dark and chill;

For, lone, among the mountains cold,

Lie those that I have loved of old.

And my heart aches, in hopeless pain

Exhausted with repinings vain,

That I shall greet them ne’er again!”

“Father, in early infancy,

When you were far beyond the sea,

Such thoughts were tyrants over me!

I often sat, for hours together,

Through the long nights of angry weather,

Raised on my pillow, to descry

The dim moon struggling in the sky;

Or, with strained ear, to catch the shock,

Of rock with wave, and wave with rock;

So would I fearful vigil keep,

And, all for listening, never sleep.

But this world’s life has much to dread,

Not so, my Father, with the dead.

“Oh! not for them, should we despair,

The grave is drear, but they are not there;

Their dust is mingled with the sod,

Their happy souls are gone to God!

You told me this, and yet you sigh,

And murmur that your friends must die.

Ah! my dear father, tell me why?

For, if your former words were true,

How useless would such sorrowbe;

As wise, to mourn the seed which grew

Unnoticed on its parent tree,.

Because it fell in fertile earth,

And sprang up to a glorious birth —

Struck deep its root, and lifted high

Its green boughs, in the breezy sky.

“But, I’ll not fear, I will not weep

For those whose bodies rest in sleep, —

I know there is a blessed shore,

Opening its ports for me, and mine;

And, gazing Time’s wide waters o’er,

I weary for that land divine,

Where we were born, where you and I

Shall meet our Dearest, when we die;

From suffering and corruption free,

Restored into the Deity.”

“Well hast thou spoken, sweet, trustful child!

And wiser than thy sire;

And worldly tempests, raging wild,

Shall strengthen thy desire —

Thy fervent hope, through storm and foam,

Through wind and ocean’s roar,

To reach, at last, the eternal home,

The steadfast, changeless, shore!”

Stars

Ah! why, because the dazzling sun

Restored our Earth to joy,

Have you departed, every one,

And left a desert sky?

All through the night, your glorious eyes

Were gazing down in mine,

And, with a full heart’s thankful sighs,

I blessed that watch divine.

I was at peace, and drank your beams

As they were life to me;

And revelled in my changeful dreams,

Like petrel on the sea.

Thought followed thought, star followed star,

Through boundless regions, on;

While one sweet influence, near and far,

Thrilled through, and proved us one!

Why did the morning dawn to break

So great, so pure, a spell;

And scorch with fire, the tranquil cheek,

Where your cool radiance fell?

Blood-red, he rose, and, arrow-straight,

His fierce beams struck my brow;

The soul of nature, sprang, elate,

But mine sank sad and low!

My lids closed down, yet through their veil,

I saw him, blazing, still,

And steep in gold the misty dale,

And flash upon the hill.

I turned me to the pillow, then,

To call back night, and see

Your worlds of solemn light, again,

Throb with my heart, and me!

It would not do — the pillow glowed,

And glowed both roof and floor;

And birds sang loudly in the wood,

And fresh winds shook the door;

The curtains waved, the wakened flies

Were murmuring round my room,...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Note
• Contents
• Charlotte Brontë (1816-1855)
• Emily Brontë (1818-1848)
• Anne Brontë (1820-1849)