Charlotte Brontë was an English poet and novelist and one of the three Brontë sisters. She is best remembered for her novel Jane Eyre but also wrote numerous engaging poems, many of which were published in Poems of Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell in 1846.
‘On the Death of Anne Brontë’ by Charlotte Brontë describes the poet’s grief over her beloved sister’s death and her relief that Anne’s suffering has ended.
There's little joy in life for me,
And little terror in the grave;
I 've lived the parting hour to see
Of one I would have died to save.
‘I now had only to retrace’ by Charlotte Brontë describes a speaker’s harrowing journey through a rapidly darkening landscape.
I now had only to retrace
The long and lonely road
So lately in the rainbow chase
With fearless ardour trod
‘Life’ by Charlotte Brontë describes the overwhelming true merriment of life and dispels the images of life a dreary and dark dream to be suffered through.
Life, believe, is not a dream
So dark as sages say;
Oft a little morning rain
Foretells a pleasant day.
Brontë’s ‘Parting’ depicts a lover’s thoughts on what separation means for her relationship.
There's no use in weeping,
Though we are condemned to part:
There's such a thing as keeping
A remembrance in one's heart:
‘Preference’ contrasts a deceitful suitor with a virtuous man, revealing the speaker’s unwavering dedication to true love.
NOT in scorn do I reprove thee,
Not in pride thy vows I waive,
But, believe, I could not love thee,
Wert thou prince, and I a slave.
‘The Autumn day its course has run’ by Charlotte Brontë describes the comforting presence of darkness as it travels through a speaker’s home.
The Autumn day its course has run--the Autumn evening falls
Already risen the Autumn moon gleams quiet on these walls
‘The house was still—the room was still’ by Charlotte Brontë is a fragment of an unfinished work that speaks on freedom and captivity.
'Twas eventide in June
A caged canary to the sun
Then setting — trilled a tune
’The Nurse believed the sick man slept’ portrays a nurse’s mistake, unveiling the boundary between sleep and death’s eternal silence.
The Nurse believed the sick man slept
For motionless he lay
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