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Bronte Poetry


Bronte

The Teacher's Monologue - Poem by Charlotte Bronte

The room is quiet, thoughts alone
People its mute tranquillity;
The yoke put off, the long task done,--
I am, as it is bliss to be,
Still and untroubled. Now, I see,
For the first time, how soft the day
O'er waveless water, stirless tree,
Silent and sunny, wings its way.
Now, as I watch that distant hill,
So faint, so blue, so far removed,
Sweet dreams of home my heart may fill,
That home where I am known and loved:
It lies beyond; yon azure brow
Parts me from all Earth holds for me;
And, morn and eve, my yearnings flow
Thitherward tending, changelessly.
My happiest hours, aye! all the time,
I love to keep in memory,
Lapsed among moors, ere life's first prime
Decayed to dark anxiety.

Sometimes, I think a narrow heart
Makes me thus mourn those far away,
And keeps my love so far apart
From friends and friendships of to-day;
Sometimes, I think 'tis but a dream
I treasure up so jealously,
All the sweet thoughts I live on seem
To vanish into vacancy:
And then, this strange, coarse world around
Seems all that's palpable and true;
And every sight, and every sound,
Combines my spirit to subdue
To aching grief, so void and lone
Is Life and Earth--so worse than vain,
The hopes that, in my own heart sown,
And cherished by such sun and rain
As Joy and transient Sorrow shed,
Have ripened to a harvest there:
Alas! methinks I hear it said,
"Thy golden sheaves are empty air."

All fades away; my very home
I think will soon be desolate;
I hear, at times, a warning come
Of bitter partings at its gate;
And, if I should return and see
The hearth-fire quenched, the vacant chair;
And hear it whispered mournfully,
That farewells have been spoken there,
What shall I do, and whither turn?
Where look for peace? When cease to mourn?

*

'Tis not the air I wished to play,
The strain I wished to sing;
My wilful spirit slipped away
And struck another string.
I neither wanted smile nor tear,
Bright joy nor bitter woe,
But just a song that sweet and clear,
Though haply sad, might flow.

A quiet song, to solace me
When sleep refused to come;
A strain to chase despondency,
When sorrowful for home.
In vain I try; I cannot sing;
All feels so cold and dead;
No wild distress, no gushing spring
Of tears in anguish shed;

But all the impatient gloom of one
Who waits a distant day,
When, some great task of suffering done,
Repose shall toil repay.
For youth departs, and pleasure flies,
And life consumes away,
And youth's rejoicing ardour dies
Beneath this drear delay;

And Patience, weary with her yoke,
Is yielding to despair,
And Health's elastic spring is broke
Beneath the strain of care.
Life will be gone ere I have lived;
Where now is Life's first prime?
I've worked and studied, longed and grieved,
Through all that rosy time.

To toil, to think, to long, to grieve,--
Is such my future fate?
The morn was dreary, must the eve
Be also desolate?
Well, such a life at least makes Death
A welcome, wished-for friend;
Then, aid me, Reason, Patience, Faith,
To suffer to the end!




About the Brontes
Emily
Anne
Charlotte
Branwell
Patrick


Charlotte Bronte Poetry
Winter Stores
Pilate's Wife's Dream
Mementos
The Wife's Will
The Wood
Frances
Gilbert I. The Garden
Gilbert II. The Parlour
Gilbert III. The Welcome Home
Life
The Letter
Regret
Presentiment
The Teacher's Monologue
Passion
Preference
Evening Solace
Stanzas
Parting
Apostasy
The Missionary


Emily Bronte Poetry
Faith and Despondency
Stars
The Philosopher
Remembrance
A Death-Scene
Song
Anticipation
The Prisoner - A Fragment
Hope
A Day Dream
To Imagination
How Clear She Shines
Sympathy
Plead for me
Self-Interogation
Death
Stanzas To --
Honour
Stanzas
My Comforter
The Old Stoic


Anne Bronte Poetry
A Reminiscence
The Arbour
Home
Vanitas Vanitatum, Omnia Vanitas
The Penitent
Music On Christmas Morning
Stanzas
If This Be All
Memory
To Cowper
The Doubter's Prayer
A Word To The "Elect"
Past Days
The Consolation
Lines Composed In A Wood On A Windy Day
Views Of Life
Appeal
The Student's Serenade
The Captive Dove
Self-Congratulation
Fluctuations




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