Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Oh, thy bright eyes must answer now,
When Reason, with a scornful brow,
Is mocking at my overthrow!
Oh, thy sweet tongue must plead for me
And tell why I have chosen thee!.
Stern Reason is to judgment come,
Arrayed in all her forms of gloom:
Wilt thou, my advocate, be dumb?
No, radiant angel, speak and say
Why I did cast the world away,
Why I have persevered to shun
The common paths that others run;
And on a strange road journeyed on,
Heedless, alike of wealth and power
Of glory's wreath and pleasure's flower.
These, once, indeed, seemed Beings Divine;
And they, perchance, heard vows of mine,
And saw my offerings on their shrine;
But careless gifts are seldom prized,
And mine were worthily despised.
So, with a ready heart, I swore
To seek their altar-stone no more;
And gave my spirit to adore
Thee, ever-present, phantom thing
My slave, my comrade, and my king.
A slave, because I rule thee still;
Incline thee to my changeful will,
And make thy influence good or ill:
A comrade, for by day and night
Thou art my intimate delight,
My darling pain that wounds and sears,
And wrings a blessing out from tears
By deadening me to earthly cares;
And yet, a king, though Prudence well
Have taught thy subject to rebel.
And am I wrong to worship where
Faith cannot doubt, nor hope despair,
Since my own soul can grant my prayer?
Speak, God of visions, plead for me,
And tell why I have chosen thee!.