Treasure Island

Emily Jane Brontë

(30 July 1818 – 19 December 1848 / Thornton / Yorkshire)

Comments about Emily Jane Brontë

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  • Gloria Nisbet (12/20/2013 5:52:00 PM)

    Like to read all her works/poems

    6 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • John Kim (12/20/2011 10:02:00 PM)

    When I was youth, I loved Emily Jane Bronte so I wanted to marrage with her. I thought that to go bac to the past by time machine.
    Now I love her.

  • fleur de lys (6/5/2010 7:16:00 AM)

    No other soul has echoed the feelings of my own heart so consistently as this lady.

  • Emily Oldham (9/27/2008 9:09:00 AM)

    I was wrong. the poem 'silent is the house' is on here, its just under the title 'the visionary'.

  • Florencia Medrano (3/17/2008 4:11:00 PM)

    The following poem was written by Emily Brontë; (Born in Irland- 1818- and died at the age of thirty- 1848) .
    Most of her poetry reflected her life. A passionate woman thou silent, reserved and loner, therefore sad and sorrow.
    'I am the only being whose doom' have six stanza; the rhyme and rythem follow a regular scheme; and the use of figures of speech give a particular tender to it.
    The persona in the poem describes her reflection towards the world. A young girl- eighteen years- who realize youth is more than hopes and dreams.
    It implies truth and pain. Taking into account the fifth stanza: ' First melted off the hope of youth, then fancy's rainbow fast withdrew; and then experience told me truth in mortal bosoms never grew.'
    Her life have had more downs than ups, as she continuously mentions unhappy adjetives, such us: (doom, gloom, sad, drear, hollow) .
    The reader can tell that the persona's lack of affection when it says: ' As lone as on my natal day.' A simile that gives life to the poem.
    She seems to prefere death than life- ' No tongue would ask, no eye would mourn.'- a strong metaphor to make clear her whole idea; not only death but loneliness.
    Finally, the last stanza emphasise on a corrupted world- hollow, servile, insencere- which makes us forget our human essence becoming selfisk people; as she is 'friendless'.

Anticipation

How beautiful the earth is still,
To thee - how full of happiness!
How little fraught with real ill,
Or unreal phantoms of distress!
How spring can bring thee glory, yet,
And summer win thee to forget
December's sullen time!
Why dost thou hold the treasure fast,
Of youth's delight, when youth is past,

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