by: Emily Brontë (1818-1848)
POEMS BY EMILY BRONTË
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.
- I'll walk, but not in old heroic traces,
- And not in paths of high morality,
- And not among the half-distinguish'd faces,
- The clouded forms of long-past history.
- I'll walk when my own nature would be leading:
- It vexes me to choose another guide:
- Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding,
- Where the wild wind blows on the mountain side.