Charlotte Brontë
Yorkshire, England
Explore Poems GO!

Passion

Rating: 3.1
SOME have won a wild delight,
By daring wilder sorrow;
Could I gain thy love to-night,
I'd hazard death to-morrow.

Could the battle-struggle earn
One kind glance from thine eye,
How this withering heart would burn,
The heady fight to try !

Welcome nights of broken sleep,
And days of carnage cold,
Could I deem that thou wouldst weep
To hear my perils told.

Tell me, if with wandering bands
I roam full far away,
Wilt thou, to those distant lands,
In spirit ever stray ?

Wild, long, a trumpet sounds afar;
Bid me­bid me go
Where Seik and Briton meet in war,
On Indian Sutlej's flow.

Blood has dyed the Sutlej's waves
With scarlet stain, I know;
Indus' borders yawn with graves,
Yet, command me go !

Though rank and high the holocaust
Of nations, steams to heaven,
Glad I'd join the death-doomed host,
Were but the mandate given.

Passion's strength should nerve my arm,
Its ardour stir my life,
Till human force to that dread charm
Should yield and sink in wild alarm,
Like trees to tempest-strife.

If, hot from war, I seek thy love,
Darest thou turn aside ?
Darest thou, then, my fire reprove,
By scorn, and maddening pride ?

No­my will shall yet control
Thy will, so high and free,
And love shall tame that haughty soul­
Yes­tenderest love for me.

I'll read my triumph in thine eyes,
Behold, and prove the change;
Then leave, perchance, my noble prize,
Once more in arms to range.

I'd die when all the foam is up,
The bright wine sparkling high;
Nor wait till in the exhausted cup
Life's dull dregs only lie.

Then Love thus crowned with sweet reward,
Hope blest with fulness large,
I'd mount the saddle, draw the sword,
And perish in the charge !
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS
Marieta Maglas 14 July 2017
The author of the semi-autobiographical novel Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë possessed a deeply passionate heart being revealed in all her works. As a child, she started to play with wooden soldiers and to construct an illusory world, named Angria, about which she began to write in great detail. In 1849, Charlotte traveled to London and began to move in literary circles, where she met Thackeray. The great discrepancy between the society described by Thackeray and the ideal of Brontë is a stimulus for a fighting attitude Charlotte had in her poetry, also in her novels like Shirley and Villette. Even so, this kind of fight embraced a pacifist point of view while dreaming of a true love as fiery as it was described in the stories she had written. Could the battle-struggle earn One kind glance from thine eye, How this withering heart would burn, The heady fight to try! The conflict between love and independence has no solution. Wild, long, a trumpet sounds afar; Bid me­bid me go Where Seik and Briton meet in war, On Indian Sutlej's flow. The tension between sexual energies and social realities is projected far away, in another space. She needs a comparison and a need to run from her own problems. Love and liberty need sacrifice, Blood has dyed the Sutlej's waves With scarlet stain, I know; While expecting a child, Charlotte caught pneumonia. Even her illness could have been cured, Charlotte had consciously or unconsciously an opportunity to think of her ending moment in life, thus she died.She couldn't win this battle with death. A reason can be her secluded life in the wilds of Yorkshire together with her sisters, her drug addicted brother, and an eccentric father. Tell me, if with wandering bands I roam full far away, Wilt thou, to those distant lands, In spirit ever stray? Charlotte took up her pen to reveal the truth about her life fulfilled with feelings, desires, triumphs and many disappointments. An impossible love saved Jane Eyre but didn't save the author; remained, in reality, a secret passion for a man she could never have.Thus, the relationship with Mr. Arthur Bell Nichols has developed intensely and dramatically from the moment he became her husband. Both felt the pull of individual self-development against the wish for emotional fulfillment. If, hot from war, I seek thy love, Darest thou turn aside? Darest thou, then, my fire reprove, By scorn, and maddening pride? In fact, it was a fight to live. She died while being pregnant. Then Love thus crowned with sweet reward, Hope blest with fulness large, I'd mount the saddle, draw the sword, And perish in the charge!
3 3 Reply
PoemLover 25 December 2020
That's really long.
0 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 14 July 2017
A wild delight! ! Thanks for sharing.
3 5 Reply
Bernard F. Asuncion 14 July 2017
Depression is a sign of having no faith in God.... Thanks for posting??
3 2 Reply
Lantz Pierre 14 July 2017
Your statement grows from the fetid manure of ignorance inculcated by religion. Depression is a serious medical condition and bears no relation to anyone's faith or lack of faith in a supreme deity. Do not pollute the hard won and well reasoned advances of science and medicine with the willful fictions of religion. Your statement is not only offensive, it is dangerous.
0 0 Reply
Erin McKiernan 29 June 2006
I adore this poem. The speaker is so desperate and hopeless for the attention of her love interest. She conveys that she is willing to do anything for it. What young woman hasn't felt that way at some point?
5 1 Reply

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

4/11/2021 9:54:38 AM # 1.0.0.559