Poems
16.03.2010 / 01.41 am
 
by Charlotte Bronte
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Long ago I wished to leave
' The house where I was born; '
Long ago I used to grieve,
My home seemed so forlorn.
In other years, its silent rooms
Were filled with haunting fears;
Now, their very memory comes
O'ercharged with tender tears.

Life and marriage I have known,
Things once deemed so bright;
Now, how utterly is flown
Every ray of light !
'Mid the unknown sea of life
I no blest isle have found;
At last, through all its wild wave's strife,
My bark is homeward bound.

Farewell, dark and rolling deep !
Farewell, foreign shore !
Open, in unclouded sweep,
Thou glorious realm before !
Yet, though I had safely pass'd
That weary, vexed main,
One loved voice, through surge and blast,
Could call me back again.

Though the soul's bright morning rose
O'er Paradise for me,
William ! even from Heaven's repose
I'd turn, invoked by thee !
Storm nor surge should e'er arrest
My soul, exulting then:
All my heaven was once thy breast,
Would it were mine again !


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Presentiment

' SISTER, you've sat there all the day,
Come to the hearth awhile;
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The Wife's Will

Sit still­a word­a breath may break
(As light airs stir a sleeping lake,)
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Missionary, The

Lough, vessel, plough the British main,
Seek the free ocean's wider plain;
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Joseph Blanco WhiteJoseph Blanco White (1)
(1775 - 1841)
Was a Spanish theologian and poet.
William MorrisWilliam Morris (11)
(1834 - 1896)
Was an English artist, writer, and socialist.
Alfred Comyn LyallAlfred Comyn Lyall (4)
(1835 - 1911)
Sir Alfred Comyn Lyall was a British civil servant, literary historian and poet.
James Thomson (B.V. )James Thomson (B.V. ) (11)
(1834 - 1882)
Scottish Victorian poet who is best remembered for his sombre, imaginative poem "The City of Dreadful Night."

Vision

  I exchange eyes with the Mad Queen

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The Drunkards In The Street

The Drunkards in the street are calling one another,
Heeding not the night-wind, great of heart and gay, -
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Relic

I found this jawbone at the sea's edge:
There, crabs, dogfish, broken by the breakers or tossed
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Ballad Of The Long-legged Bait

The bows glided down, and the coast
Blackened with birds took a last look
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The Shepherds

Sweet, harmless lives! (on whose holy leisure
Waits innocence and pleasure),
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