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Bronte Poetry


Bronte

The Wife's Will - Poem by Charlotte Bronte

Sit still--a word--a breath may break
(As light airs stir a sleeping lake)
The glassy calm that soothes my woes--
The sweet, the deep, the full repose.
O leave me not! for ever be
Thus, more than life itself to me!

Yes, close beside thee let me kneel--
Give me thy hand, that I may feel
The friend so true--so tried--so dear,
My heart's own chosen--indeed is near;
And check me not--this hour divine
Belongs to me--is fully mine.

'Tis thy own hearth thou sitt'st beside,
After long absence--wandering wide;
'Tis thy own wife reads in thine eyes
A promise clear of stormless skies;
For faith and true love light the rays
Which shine responsive to her gaze.

Ay,--well that single tear may fall;
Ten thousand might mine eyes recall,
Which from their lids ran blinding fast,
In hours of grief, yet scarcely past;
Well mayst thou speak of love to me,
For, oh! most truly--I love thee!

Yet smile--for we are happy now.
Whence, then, that sadness on thy brow?
What sayst thou? "We muse once again,
Ere long, be severed by the main!"
I knew not this--I deemed no more
Thy step would err from Britain's shore.

"Duty commands!" 'Tis true--'tis just;
Thy slightest word I wholly trust,
Nor by request, nor faintest sigh,
Would I to turn thy purpose try;
But, William, hear my solemn vow--
Hear and confirm!--with thee I go.

"Distance and suffering," didst thou say?
"Danger by night, and toil by day?"
Oh, idle words and vain are these;
Hear me! I cross with thee the seas.
Such risk as thou must meet and dare,
I--thy true wife--will duly share.

Passive, at home, I will not pine;
Thy toils, thy perils shall be mine;
Grant this--and be hereafter paid
By a warm heart's devoted aid:
'Tis granted--with that yielding kiss,
Entered my soul unmingled bliss.

Thanks, William, thanks! thy love has joy,
Pure, undefiled with base alloy;
'Tis not a passion, false and blind,
Inspires, enchains, absorbs my mind;
Worthy, I feel, art thou to be
Loved with my perfect energy.

This evening now shall sweetly flow,
Lit by our clear fire's happy glow;
And parting's peace-embittering fear,
Is warned our hearts to come not near;
For fate admits my soul's decree,
In bliss or bale--to go with thee!




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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