Wuthering Heights / Emily Bronte

Title: Wuthering Heights 

Author: Emily Bronte 

Subjects: Classic; Fiction

It was controversial because of its unusually stark depiction of mental and physical cruelty, and it challenged strict Victorian ideals regarding religious hypocrisy, morality, social classes and gender inequality. One significant aspect is the moorland setting. Wuthering Heights is now a classic of English literature.

Warning And Reply / Emily Bronte

In the earth--the earth--thou shalt be laid,

A grey stone standing over thee;

Black mould beneath thee spread,

And black mould to cover thee.

"Well--there is rest there,

So fast come thy prophecy;

The time when my sunny hair

Shall with grass roots entwined be."

To Imagination / Emily Bronte

When weary with the long day's care,

And earthly change from pain to pain,

And lost, and ready to despair,

Thy kind voice calls me back again:

Oh, my true friend! I am not lone,

While then canst speak with such a tone!

The Wanderer From The Fold / Emily Bronte

How few, of all the hearts that loved,

Are grieving for thee now;

And why should mine to-night be moved

With such a sense of woe?

Too often thus, when left alone,

Where none my thoughts can see,

Comes back a word, a passing tone

From thy strange history.

The Visionary / Emily Bronte

Silent is the house: all are laid asleep:

One alone looks out o'er the snow-wreaths deep,

Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze

That whirls the wildering drift, and bends the groaning trees.

Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor;

Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door;

The little lamp burns straight, its rays shoot strong and far:

I trim it well, to be the wanderer's guiding-star.

The Two Children / Emily Bronte

Heavy hangs the rain-drop

From the burdened spray;

Heavy broods the damp mist

On uplands far away.

Heavy looms the dull sky,

Heavy rolls the sea;

And heavy throbs the young heart

Beneath that lonely tree.

The Prisoner / Emily Bronte

A fragment.

In the dungeon-crypts idly did I stray,

Reckless of the lives wasting there away;

"Draw the ponderous bars! open, Warder stern!"

He dared not say me nay--the hinges harshly turn.

"Our guests are darkly lodged," I whisper'd, gazing through

The vault, whose grated eye showed heaven more gray than blue;

(This was when glad Spring laughed in awaking pride;)

"Ay, darkly lodged enough!" returned my sullen guide.

The Philosopher / Emily Bronte

Enough of thought, philosopher!

Too long hast thou been dreaming

Unlightened, in this chamber drear,

While summer's sun is beaming!

Space-sweeping soul, what sad refrain

Concludes thy musings once again?

The Old Stoic / Emily Bronte

Riches I hold in light esteem,

And Love I laugh to scorn;

And lust of fame was but a dream,

That vanished 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!"

The Night-wind / Emily Bronte

In summer's mellow midnight,

A cloudless moon shone through

Our open parlour window,

And rose-trees wet with dew.

I sat in silent musing;

The soft wind waved my hair;

It told me heaven was glorious,

And sleeping earth was fair.

The Lady To Her Guitar / Emily Bronte

For him who struck thy foreign string,

I ween this heart has ceased to care;

Then why dost thou such feelings bring

To my sad spirit--old Guitar?

It is as if the warm sunlight

In some deep glen should lingering stay,

When clouds of storm, or shades of night,

Have wrapt the parent orb away.

The Elder's Rebuke / Emily Bronte

"Listen! When your hair, like mine,

Takes a tint of silver gray;

When your eyes, with dimmer shine,

Watch life's bubbles float away:

When you, young man, have borne like me

The weary weight of sixty-three,

Then shall penance sore be paid

For those hours so wildly squandered;

And the words that now fall dead

On your ear, be deeply pondered--

Pondered and approved at last:

But their virtue will be past!

The Bluebell / Emily Bronte

The Bluebell is the sweetest flower

That waves in summer air:

Its blossoms have the mightiest power

To soothe my spirit's care.

There is a spell in purple heath

Too wildly, sadly dear;

The violet has a fragrant breath,

But fragrance will not cheer,

Sympathy / Emily Bronte

There should be no despair for you

While nightly stars are burning;

While evening pours its silent dew,

And sunshine gilds the morning.

There should be no despair--though tears

May flow down like a river:

Are not the best beloved of years

Around your heart for ever?

Stars / Emily Bronte

Ah! why, because the dazzling sun

Restored our Earth to joy,

Have you departed, every one,

And left a desert sky?

All through the night, your glorious eyes

Were gazing down in mine,

And, with a full heart's thankful sighs,

I blessed that watch divine.

Stanzas- / Emily Bronte

I'll not weep that thou art going to leave me,

There's nothing lovely here;

And doubly will the dark world grieve me,

While thy heart suffers there.

I'll not weep, because the summer's glory

Must always end in gloom;

And, follow out the happiest story--

It closes with a tomb!

Stanzas To ---- / Emily Bronte

Well, some may hate, and some may scorn,

And some may quite forget thy name;

But my sad heart must ever mourn

Thy ruined hopes, thy blighted fame!

'Twas thus I thought, an hour ago,

Even weeping o'er that wretch's woe;

One word turned back my gushing tears,

And lit my altered eye with sneers.

Stanzas / Emily Bronte

Often rebuked, yet always back returning

To those first feelings that were born with me,

And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning

For idle dreams of things which cannot be:

To-day, I will seek not the shadowy region;

Its unsustaining vastness waxes drear;

And visions rising, legion after legion,

Bring the unreal world too strangely near.

Song / Emily Bronte

The linnet in the rocky dells,

The moor-lark in the air,

The bee among the heather bells

That hide my lady fair:

The wild deer browse above her breast;

The wild birds raise their brood;

And they, her smiles of love caressed,

Have left her solitude!

Shall Earth No More Inspire Thee / Emily Bronte

Shall earth no more inspire thee,

Thou lonely dreamer now?

Since passion may not fire thee,

Shall nature cease to bow?

Thy mind is ever moving,

In regions dark to thee;

Recall its useless roving,

Come back, and dwell with me.