Emily Bronte
¶[1818-1848]
682 Last Lines
¶No coward soul is mine,No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:I see Heaven's glories shine,And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.
¶O God within my breast,Almighty, ever-present Deity!Life—that in me has rest,As I—undying Life—have power in Thee!
¶Vain are the thousand creedsThat move men's hearts: unutterably vain;Worthless as wither'd weeds,Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,
¶To waken doubt in oneHolding so fast by Thine infinity;So surely anchor'd onThe steadfast rock of immortality.[1111]With wide-embracing loveThy Spirit animates eternal years,Pervades and broods above,Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.
¶Though earth and man were gone,And suns and universes cease to be,And Thou were left alone,Every existence would exist in Thee.
¶There is not room for Death,Nor atom that his might could render void:Thou—Thou art Being and Breath,And what Thou art may never be destroyed.
The Old Stoic
¶RICHES I hold in light esteem,And Love I laugh to scorn;And lust of fame was but a dream,That vanish'd with the morn:
¶And if I pray, the only prayerThat moves my lips for meIs, 'Leave the heart that now I bear,And give me liberty!'
¶Yes, as my swift days near their goal,'Tis all that I implore;In life and death a chainless soulWith courage to endure.