no coward soul is mine - emily bronte

A DAY DREAM

We thought, ‘When winter comes again,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Where will these bright things be?
All vanished, like a vision vain,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀An unreal mockery!

‘To thee the world is like a tomb,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A desert’s naked shore;
To us, in unimagined bloom,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It brightens more and more!

‘And could we lift the veil, and give
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀One brief glimpse to thine eye,
Thou wouldst rejoice for those that live,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Because they live to die.’

SELF-INTERROGATION

‘Look on the grave, where thou must sleep,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thy last, and strongest foe;
It is endurance not to weep,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀If that repose seem woe.

‘The long war closing in defeat,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Defeat serenely borne,
Thy midnight rest may still be sweet,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀And break in glorious morn!’

HONOUR’S MARTYR

Revenge may stain a righteous sword,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It may be just to slay;
But, traitor, traitor, —from that word
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀All true breasts shrink away!

Oh, I would give my heart to death,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀To keep my honour fair;
Yet, I’ll not give my inward faith
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀My honour’s name to spare!

Not even to keep your priceless love,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Dare I, Beloved, deceive;
This treason should the future prove,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Then, only then, believe!

I know the path I ought to go;
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀I follow fearlessly,
Inquiring not what deeper woe
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Stern duty stores for me.

So foes pursue, and cold allies
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Mistrust me, every one:
Let me be false in others’ eyes,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀If faithful in my own.

THE TWO CHILDREN

All the flowers are praying
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀For sun, before they close,
And he prays too — unconscious —
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀That sunless human rose.

Blosson — that the west-wind
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Has never wooed to blow,
Scentless are thy petals,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thy dew as cold as snow!

Soul — where kindred kindness,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀No early promise woke,
Barren is thy beauty,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀As weed upon a rock.

Wither — soul and blossom!
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀You both were vainly give:
Earth reserves no blessing
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀For the unblessed of heaven!

- - - - - - - -

I’ll walk where my own nature would be leading:
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It vexes me to choose another guide:
Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding;
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Where the wild wind blows on the
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀mountain side.

What have those lonely mountains worth
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀revealing?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀More glory and more grief than I can tell:
The earth that wakes one human heart to feeling
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Can centre both the worlds of Heaven and
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Hell.