Emily Jane Brontë

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

The Visionary - Poem by Emily Jane Brontë

Silent is the house: all are laid asleep:
One alone looks out o’er the snow-wreaths deep,
Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze
That whirls the wildering drift, and bends the groaning trees.

Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor;
Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door;
The little lamp burns straight, its rays shoot strong and far:
I trim it well, to be the wanderer’s guiding-star.

Frown, my haughty sire! chide, my angry dame!
Set your slaves to spy; threaten me with shame:
But neither sire nor dame nor prying serf shall know,
What angel nightly tracks that waste of frozen snow.

What I love shall come like visitant of air,
Safe in secret power from lurking human snare;
What loves me, no word of mine shall e’er betray,
Though for faith unstained my life must forfeit pay.

Burn, then, little lamp; glimmer straight and clear—
Hush! a rustling wing stirs, methinks, the air:
He for whom I wait, thus ever comes to me;
Strange Power! I trust thy might; trust thou my constancy.


Comments about The Visionary by Emily Jane Brontë

  • Emily Oldham (9/27/2008 9:08:00 AM)


    oh, this poem IS on here! good. i love it. why... i can't explain... but i love it. thanks Emily. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: trust, snow, power, angel, faith, star, house, alone, tree



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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