Anne Brontë

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

Anne Brontë Poems

41. Monday Night May 11th 1846 / Domestic Peace 12/31/2002
42. Fragment 12/31/2002
43. A Hymn 12/31/2002
44. My Soul Is Awakened 1/3/2003
45. Appeal 12/31/2002
46. Fluctuations 12/31/2002
47. Verses To A Child 12/31/2002
48. Night 12/31/2002
49. Lines Written From Home 12/31/2002
50. If This Be All 12/31/2002
51. The Captive's Dream 12/31/2002
52. A Reminiscence 5/10/2001
53. Gloomily The Clouds 12/31/2002
54. A Prisoner In A Dungeon Deep 12/31/2002
55. The Captive Dove 12/31/2002
56. Confidence 12/31/2002
57. Music On Christmas Morning 12/31/2002
58. A Prayer 1/3/2003
59. Despondency 12/31/2002
60. Retirement 12/31/2002
61. Oh, They Have Robbed Me Of The Hope 12/31/2002
62. In Memory Of A Happy Day In February 12/31/2002
63. Alexander And Zenobia 12/31/2002
64. The Bluebell 12/31/2002
65. Home 12/31/2002
66. A Voice From The Dungeon 12/31/2002
67. Dreams 12/31/2002
68. Farewell 12/31/2002

Comments about Anne Brontë

  • Manideep (9/9/2018 9:13:00 AM)

    I love the lines composed on a windy day

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  • Mayank Shah (5/18/2018 9:17:00 AM)

    Nice....kindly check my poem give your views about it

  • Wanu Xwl (5/10/2017 3:48:00 PM)

    Anne Bronte is my favourite poet and her language uses in poems is attractive

  • Loyo Rita (3/12/2013 5:14:00 PM)

    Anne is one of my favourite writers. Love her masterpiece 'The Tenant of Wildfell Hall'.
    P.S. The picture used here is the portrait of Anne's sister Charlotte, not Anne herself. Please change it.

  • Loyo Rita (3/12/2013 5:12:00 PM)

    Anne is one of my favourite writers. Love her masterpiece 'The Tenant of Wildfell Hall'.
    P.S. The picture used here is the portrait of Anne's sister Charlotte, not Anne herself. Please change it.

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

We know where deepest lies the snow,
And where the frost-winds keenest blow,
O'er every mountain's brow,
We long have known and learnt to bear
The wandering outlaw's toil and care,
But where we late were hunted, there
Our foes are hunted now.
We have their princely homes, and they
To our wild haunts are chased away,

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