| Poems by Women |
Last Lines
Emily Bronte. 1818-1848
NO coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the
world's storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven's glories shine,
And
faith shines equal, arming me from fear.
O God within my breast,
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life--that in me has rest,
As I--undying Life--have power in Thee!
Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men's hearts: unutterably
vain;
Worthless as wither'd weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the
boundless main,
To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by Thine infinity;
So surely anchor'd on
The steadfast rock of immortality.
With wide-embracing love
Thy Spirit animates eternal
years,
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves,
creates, and rears.
Though earth and man were gone,
And suns and universes cease to
be,
And Thou were left alone,
Every existence would exist in Thee.
There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render
void:
Thou--Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never
be destroyed.
From: Quiller-Couch, Arthur.
The Oxford Book of Verse. (1900)
This poet:
[Author index]
This collection assembled by Jone Johnson Lewis.
Collection © 1999-2002 Jone Johnson Lewis.
Citing poems from these pages:
| Author. "Poem Title." Women's History: Poems by Women. Jone Johnson Lewis, editor. URL: (date of logon) |
