Emily Jane Brontë

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

Emily Jane Brontë Poems

1. Past, Present, Future 6/17/2015
2. The Elder's Rebuke 3/27/2012
3. Warning And Reply 3/27/2012
4. The Wanderer From The Fold 3/27/2012
5. Silent Is The House 12/19/2011
6. The Prisoner. A Fragment 12/19/2011
7. Well Hast Thou Spoke 12/19/2011
8. Riches I Hold In Light Esteem 12/19/2011
9. R. Alcona To J. Brenzaida 12/19/2011
10. Oh, Thy Bright Eyes Must Answer Now 12/19/2011
11. Loud Without The Wind Was Roaring 3/27/2012
12. The Two Children 12/19/2011
13. Encouragement 3/27/2012
14. The Lady To Her Guitar 3/27/2012
15. Oh, For The Time When I Shall Sleep 12/19/2011
16. Stanzas To - 12/31/2002
17. Speak, God Of Visions 1/1/2004
18. Often Rebuked, Yet Always Back Returning 12/19/2011
19. The Philosopher 12/31/2002
20. [long Neglect Has Worn Away] 12/19/2011
21. Song 12/31/2002
22. Plead For Me 12/31/2002
23. Ah! Why, Because The Dazzling Sun 12/19/2011
24. My Lady's Grave 1/1/2004
25. Prisoner, The - (A Fragment) 12/31/2002
26. Self-Interrogation 12/31/2002
27. The Night - Wind 12/31/2002
28. The Wind Was Rough Which Tore 12/31/2002
29. Shall Earth No More Inspire Thee 12/31/2002
30. 'Yes, Holy Be Thy Resting Place' 12/31/2002
31. A Little While, A Little While, 12/31/2002
32. Honour's Martyr 12/31/2002
33. Stanzas 12/31/2002
34. My Comforter 12/31/2002
35. The Sun Has Set 12/31/2002
36. The Prisoner 1/3/2003
37. Last Lines 1/1/2004
38. 'Tis Moonlight, Summer Moonlight 12/31/2002
39. Moonlight, Summer Moonlight 1/1/2004
40. Come Hither, Child 12/31/2002
Best Poem of Emily Jane Brontë

I Am The Only Being Whose Doom

I am the only being whose doom
No tongue would ask no eye would mourn
I never caused a thought of gloom
A smile of joy since I was born

In secret pleasure - secret tears
This changeful life has slipped away
As friendless after eighteen years
As lone as on my natal day

There have been times I cannot hide
There have been times when this was drear
When my sad soul forgot its pride
And longed for one to love me here

But those were in the early glow
Of feelings since subdued by care
And they have died so long ago
I hardly now believe they ...

Read the full of I Am The Only Being Whose Doom

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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