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. The North Wind 12/31/2002
8. Stanzas 12/31/2002
9. Song 2 12/31/2002
10. Z---------'s Dream 12/31/2002
11. Mirth And Mourning 12/31/2002
12. The Penitent 12/31/2002
13. Severed And Gone 12/31/2002
14. Lines Written At Thorp Green 12/31/2002
15. The Parting (2) 12/31/2002
16. Parting Address From Z.Z. To A.E. 12/31/2002
17. Views Of Life 12/31/2002
18. Self Communion 12/31/2002
19. The Student's Serenade 12/31/2002
20. Lines Inscribed On The Wall Of A Dungeon In The Southern P Of I 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. Last Lines 12/31/2002
27. Self-Congratulation 12/31/2002
28. The Parting 12/31/2002
29. Power Of Love 12/31/2002
30. Music On Christmas Morning 12/31/2002
31. Past Days 12/31/2002
32. The Arbour 12/31/2002
33. The Narrow Way 12/31/2002
34. Fragment 12/31/2002
35. A Word To The Calvinists 12/31/2002
36. Memory 12/31/2002
37. Lines Written From Home 12/31/2002
38. A Word To The 'Elect' 12/31/2002
39. An Orphan's Lament 12/31/2002
40. A Fragment 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

Z---------'s Dream

I dreamt last night; and in that dream
My boyhood's heart was mine again;
These latter years did nothing seem
With all their mingled joy and pain,
Their thousand deeds of good and ill,
Their hopes which time did not fulfil,
Their glorious moments of success,
Their love that closed in bitterness,
Their hate that grew with growing strength,

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