| The Old Stoic | |
Poem By: Emily Bronte | Views: 100 | Word Count: 76 | View PDF | Print View |
|
|
|
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 prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, "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 soul,
With courage to endure
| If you enjoyed this famous poem, rate it! Currently Rated: Not yet rated - Be the first! |
About the Author
Emily Bronte (1818-1848) was born in Thornton, Yorkshire, in the north of England. Her father, the Rev. Patrick Bronte, had moved from Ireland to Weatherfield, in Essex, where he taught in Sunday school. Eventually he settled in Yorkshire, the centre of his life's work. In 1812 he married Maria Branwell of Penzance. Patrick Bronte loved poetry, he published several books of prose...
Read Emily Bronte's Full BiographyMore Poems By Emily Bronte
+ View All Emily Bronte Poems
