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Anne Bronte

A Poem by Anne Bronte: The Three Guides

  The Three Guides 1 Spirit of earth! thy hand is chill. I’ve felt its icy clasp; And shuddering I remember still That stony­hearted grasp. Thine eye bids love and joy depart, O turn its gaze from me! It presses …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: The Penitent

  The Penitent I mourn with thee and yet rejoice That thou shouldst sorrow so; With Angel choirs I join my voice To bless the sinner’s woe. Though friends and kindred turn away And laugh thy grief to scorn, I …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: The Parting (2)

  The Parting (2) 1 The lady of Alzerno’s hall Is waiting for her lord; The blackbird’s song, the cuckoo’s call No joy to her afford. She smiles not at the summer’s sun, Nor at the winter’s blast; She mourns …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: The Parting

  The Parting 1 The chestnut steed stood by the gate His noble master’s will to wait, The woody park so green and bright Was glowing in the morning light, The young leaves of the aspen trees Were dancing in …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: The North Wind

  The North Wind That wind is from the North, I know it well; No other breeze could have so wild a swell. Now deep and loud it thunders round my cell, The faintly dies, And softly sighs, And moans …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: The Narrow Way

  The Narrow Way Believe not those who say The upward path is smooth, Lest thou shouldst stumble in the way And faint before the truth. It is the only road Unto the realms of joy; But he who seeks …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: The Doubter’s Prayer

  The Doubter’s Prayer Eternal Power, of earth and air! Unseen, yet seen in all around, Remote, but dwelling everywhere, Though silent, heard in every sound. If e’er thine ear in mercy bent, When wretched mortals cried to Thee, And …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: The Consolation

  The Consolation Though bleak these woods and damp the ground With fallen leaves so thickly strewn, And cold the wind that wanders round With wild and melancholy moan, There is a friendly roof I know Might shield me from …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: The Captive Dove

  The Captive Dove   Poor restless dove, I pity thee; And when I hear thy plaintive moan, I mourn for thy captivity, And in thy woes forget mine own. To see thee stand prepared to fly, And flap those …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: The Bluebell

  The Bluebell A fine and subtle spirit dwells In every little flower, Each one its own sweet feeling breathes With more or less of power. There is a silent eloquence In every wild bluebell That fills my softened heart …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: The Arbour

  The Arbour I’ll rest me in this sheltered bower, And look upon the clear blue sky That smiles upon me through the trees, Which stand so thickly clustering by; And view their green and glossy leaves, All glistening in …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: Stanzas

  Stanzas Oh, weep not, love! each tear that springs In those dear eyes of thine, To me a keener suffering brings, Than if they flowed from mine. And do not droop! however drear The fate awaiting thee; For my …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: Song 2

Song 2 Come to the banquet ­­ triumph in your songs! Strike up the chords ­­ and sing of Victory! The oppressed have risen to redress their wrongs; The Tyrants are o’erthrown; the Land is free! The Land is free! …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: Song

Song We know where deepest lies the snow, And where the frost­winds 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 …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: Severed and Gone

Severed and Gone Severed and gone, so many years! And art thou still so dear to me, That throbbing heart and burning tears Can witness how I cling to thee? I know that in the narrow tomb The form I …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: Self-Congratulation

Self-Congratulation Ellen, you were thoughtless once Of beauty or of grace, Simple and homely in attire, Careless of form and face; Then whence this change? and wherefore now So often smooth your hair? And wherefore deck your youthful form With …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: Self Communion

Self Communion ‘The mist is resting on the hill; The smoke is hanging in the air; The very clouds are standing still: A breathless calm broods everywhere. Thou pilgrim through this vale of tears, Thou, too, a little moment cease …

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A Poem by Anne Bronte: Retirement

  Retirement O, let me be alone a while, No human form is nigh. And may I sing and muse aloud, No mortal ear is by. Away! ye dreams of earthly bliss, Ye earthly cares begone: Depart! ye restless wandering …

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