Anne Brontë

(7 January 1820 – 28 May 1849 / Thornton, West Riding of Yorkshire, England)

Anne Brontë Poems

1. Vanitas Vanitatis, Etc. 12/31/2002
2. Verses By Lady Geralda 12/31/2002
3. To Cowper 12/31/2002
4. Vanitas Vanitatum, Omnia Vanitas 12/31/2002
5. The Three Guides 12/31/2002
6. To -------- 12/31/2002
7. Stanzas 12/31/2002
8. Z---------'s Dream 12/31/2002
9. Song 2 12/31/2002
10. Mirth And Mourning 12/31/2002
11. Severed And Gone 12/31/2002
12. The North Wind 12/31/2002
13. Lines Written At Thorp Green 12/31/2002
14. Parting Address From Z.Z. To A.E. 12/31/2002
15. Views Of Life 12/31/2002
16. Self Communion 12/31/2002
17. The Penitent 12/31/2002
18. Lines Inscribed On The Wall Of A Dungeon In The Southern P Of I 12/31/2002
19. In Memory Of A Happy Day In February 12/31/2002
20. The Parting (2) 12/31/2002
21. Weep Not Too Much 12/31/2002
22. Song 12/31/2002
23. Yes Thou Art Gone 12/31/2002
24. My God! O Let Me Call Thee Mine! 12/31/2002
25. Fluctuations 12/31/2002
26. The Student's Serenade 12/31/2002
27. Lines Written From Home 12/31/2002
28. Last Lines 12/31/2002
29. Self-Congratulation 12/31/2002
30. Fragment 12/31/2002
31. Memory 12/31/2002
32. Power Of Love 12/31/2002
33. Music On Christmas Morning 12/31/2002
34. Past Days 12/31/2002
35. The Arbour 12/31/2002
36. A Word To The Calvinists 12/31/2002
37. Night 12/31/2002
38. A Word To The 'Elect' 12/31/2002
39. An Orphan's Lament 12/31/2002
40. If This Be All 12/31/2002
Best Poem of Anne Brontë

Farewell

Farewell to thee! but not farewell
To all my fondest thoughts of thee:
Within my heart they still shall dwell;
And they shall cheer and comfort me.
O, beautiful, and full of grace!
If thou hadst never met mine eye,
I had not dreamed a living face
Could fancied charms so far outvie.

If I may ne'er behold again
That form and face so dear to me,
Nor hear thy voice, still would I fain
Preserve, for aye, their memory.

That voice, the magic of whose tone
Can wake an echo in my breast,
Creating ...

Read the full of Farewell

Song 2

Come to the banquet -- triumph in your songs!
Strike up the chords -- and sing of Victory!
The oppressed have risen to redress their wrongs;
The Tyrants are o'erthrown; the Land is free!
The Land is free! Aye, shout it forth once more;
Is she not red with her oppressors' gore?
We are her champions -- shall we not rejoice?
Are not the tyrants' broad domains our own?
Then wherefore triumph with a faltering voice;

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