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. Despondency 12/31/2002
43. The Doubter's Prayer 12/31/2002
44. Song 12/31/2002
45. Power Of Love 12/31/2002
46. A Voice From The Dungeon 12/31/2002
47. Last Lines 12/31/2002
48. A Hymn 12/31/2002
49. Memory 12/31/2002
50. A Reminiscence 5/10/2001
51. Alexander And Zenobia 12/31/2002
52. Call Me Away 12/31/2002
53. Retirement 12/31/2002
54. Night 12/31/2002
55. My Soul Is Awakened 1/3/2003
56. Lines Composed In A Wood On A Windy Day 12/31/2002
57. Appeal 12/31/2002
58. A Prisoner In A Dungeon Deep 12/31/2002
59. A Prayer 1/3/2003
60. The Captive's Dream 12/31/2002
61. Lines Written From Home 12/31/2002
62. Confidence 12/31/2002
63. The Captive Dove 12/31/2002
64. Home 12/31/2002
65. The Bluebell 12/31/2002
66. Oh, They Have Robbed Me Of The Hope 12/31/2002
67. Dreams 12/31/2002
68. Farewell 12/31/2002

Comments about Anne Brontë

  • Wanu Xwl (5/10/2017 3:48:00 PM)

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

    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • 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,

[Report Error]