Emily Jane Brontë


The Old Stoic


Riches I hold in light esteem;
And Love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of fame was but a dreem
That vanished with the morn.

And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, 'Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty !'

Yes, as me swift days near their goal,
'Tis all that I implore;
In life and death, a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.






English Poetry - http://eng-poetry.ru/english/index.php. E-mail eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru