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Emily Bronte: Poems (Everyman's Library Pocket Poets) by Emily Bronte
“Though Earth and moon were gone,And suns and universes ceased to be, And Thou wert left alone,Every Existence would exist in Thee.”From the transcendent beauty of nature observed on the Yorkshire moors to fierce and forceful confrontations of mortality, Emily Brontë's poems are powerful and passionate works that eloquently elaborate upon her sister Charlotte's description of her as ""a solitude-loving raven, no gentle dove”.While only twenty-one of Emily Brontë's poems were published in her lifetime, her poetic oeuvre is rich and varied, and not only includes visionary poems such as 'No Coward Soul Is Mine' and 'Remembrance', but also features the poems that describe the imagined realm of Gondal and its inhabitants, which she created with her sister Anne.
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About the author
Emily Brontë
1,541 books13.9k followersEmily Brontë was an English novelist and poet whose singular contribution to literature, Wuthering Heights, is now celebrated as one of the most powerful and original novels in the English language. Born into the remarkable Brontë family on 30 July 1818 in Thornton, Yorkshire, she was the fifth of six children of Maria Branwell and Patrick Brontë, an Irish clergyman. Her early life was marked by both intellectual curiosity and profound loss. After the death of her mother in 1821 and the subsequent deaths of her two eldest sisters in 1825, Emily and her surviving siblings— Charlotte, Anne, and Branwell—were raised in relative seclusion in the moorland village of Haworth, where their imaginations flourished in a household shaped by books, storytelling, and emotional intensity.
The Brontë children created elaborate fictional worlds, notably Angria and later Gondal, which served as an outlet for their creative energies. Emily, in particular, gravitated toward Gondal, a mysterious, windswept imaginary land she developed with her sister Anne. Her early poetry, much of it steeped in the mythology and characters of Gondal, demonstrated a remarkable lyrical force and emotional depth. These poems remained private until discovered by Charlotte in 1845, after which Emily reluctantly agreed to publish them in the 1846 collection Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, using the pseudonym Ellis Bell to conceal her gender. Though the volume sold few copies, critics identified Emily’s poems as the strongest in the collection, lauding her for their music, power, and visionary quality.
Emily was intensely private and reclusive by nature. She briefly attended schools in Cowan Bridge and Roe Head but was plagued by homesickness and preferred the solitude of the Yorkshire moors, which inspired much of her work. She worked briefly as a teacher but found the demands of the profession exhausting. She also studied in Brussels with Charlotte in 1842, but again found herself alienated and yearning for home. Throughout her life, Emily remained closely bonded with her siblings, particularly Anne, and with the landscape of Haworth, where she drew on the raw, untamed beauty of the moors for both her poetry and her fiction.
Her only novel, Wuthering Heights, was published in 1847, a year after the poetry collection, under her pseudonym Ellis Bell. Initially met with a mixture of admiration and shock, the novel’s structure, emotional intensity, and portrayal of violent passion and moral ambiguity stood in stark contrast to the conventions of Victorian fiction. Many readers, unable to reconcile its power with the expected gentility of a woman writer, assumed it had been written by a man. The novel tells the story of Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw—two characters driven by obsessive love, cruelty, and vengeance—and explores themes of nature, the supernatural, and the destructive power of unresolved emotion. Though controversial at the time, Wuthering Heights is now considered a landmark in English literature, acclaimed for its originality, psychological insight, and poetic vision.
Emily's personality has been the subject of much speculation, shaped in part by her sister Charlotte’s later writings and by Victorian biographies that often sought to romanticize or domesticate her character. While some accounts depict her as intensely shy and austere, others highlight her fierce independence, deep empathy with animals, and profound inner life. She is remembered as a solitary figure, closely attuned to the rhythms of the natural world, with a quiet but formidable intellect and a passion for truth and freedom. Her dog, Keeper, was a constant companion and, according to many, a window into her capacity for fierce, loyal love.
Emily Brontë died of tuberculosis on 19 December 1848 at the age of thirty, just a year after the publication of her novel. Her early death, following those of her brother Branwell and soon to
The Brontë children created elaborate fictional worlds, notably Angria and later Gondal, which served as an outlet for their creative energies. Emily, in particular, gravitated toward Gondal, a mysterious, windswept imaginary land she developed with her sister Anne. Her early poetry, much of it steeped in the mythology and characters of Gondal, demonstrated a remarkable lyrical force and emotional depth. These poems remained private until discovered by Charlotte in 1845, after which Emily reluctantly agreed to publish them in the 1846 collection Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, using the pseudonym Ellis Bell to conceal her gender. Though the volume sold few copies, critics identified Emily’s poems as the strongest in the collection, lauding her for their music, power, and visionary quality.
Emily was intensely private and reclusive by nature. She briefly attended schools in Cowan Bridge and Roe Head but was plagued by homesickness and preferred the solitude of the Yorkshire moors, which inspired much of her work. She worked briefly as a teacher but found the demands of the profession exhausting. She also studied in Brussels with Charlotte in 1842, but again found herself alienated and yearning for home. Throughout her life, Emily remained closely bonded with her siblings, particularly Anne, and with the landscape of Haworth, where she drew on the raw, untamed beauty of the moors for both her poetry and her fiction.
Her only novel, Wuthering Heights, was published in 1847, a year after the poetry collection, under her pseudonym Ellis Bell. Initially met with a mixture of admiration and shock, the novel’s structure, emotional intensity, and portrayal of violent passion and moral ambiguity stood in stark contrast to the conventions of Victorian fiction. Many readers, unable to reconcile its power with the expected gentility of a woman writer, assumed it had been written by a man. The novel tells the story of Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw—two characters driven by obsessive love, cruelty, and vengeance—and explores themes of nature, the supernatural, and the destructive power of unresolved emotion. Though controversial at the time, Wuthering Heights is now considered a landmark in English literature, acclaimed for its originality, psychological insight, and poetic vision.
Emily's personality has been the subject of much speculation, shaped in part by her sister Charlotte’s later writings and by Victorian biographies that often sought to romanticize or domesticate her character. While some accounts depict her as intensely shy and austere, others highlight her fierce independence, deep empathy with animals, and profound inner life. She is remembered as a solitary figure, closely attuned to the rhythms of the natural world, with a quiet but formidable intellect and a passion for truth and freedom. Her dog, Keeper, was a constant companion and, according to many, a window into her capacity for fierce, loyal love.
Emily Brontë died of tuberculosis on 19 December 1848 at the age of thirty, just a year after the publication of her novel. Her early death, following those of her brother Branwell and soon to
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Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews
April 18, 2024
4☆
literally how does she manage to write so beautifully? it's such a shame that she only wrote one novel because wuthering heights might be my favorite book of all time. my favorite published poems from this collection were remembrance and a daydream ♡
pre-read: getting ready to listen to the tortured poets department by taylor swift by reading a poetry collection by my favourite tortured poet 🩷
literally how does she manage to write so beautifully? it's such a shame that she only wrote one novel because wuthering heights might be my favorite book of all time. my favorite published poems from this collection were remembrance and a daydream ♡
pre-read: getting ready to listen to the tortured poets department by taylor swift by reading a poetry collection by my favourite tortured poet 🩷
December 1, 2022
No one can romanticise sadness the way she does. Lots of pretty words
October 15, 2022
I feel I read this way too quickly and way too slow at the same time; but nonetheless I enjoyed it. It amazes me how most of the poems here speak about an imaginary world she created with her sister, because they feel like really detailed lore.
May 21, 2024
I'm happiest when most away
I'm happiest when most away
I can bear my soul from its home of clay
On a windy night when the moon is bright
And the eye can wander through worlds of light-
When I am not and none beside-
Nor earth nor sea nor cloudless sky-
But only spirit wandering wide
Through infinite immensity.
I'm happiest when most away
I can bear my soul from its home of clay
On a windy night when the moon is bright
And the eye can wander through worlds of light-
When I am not and none beside-
Nor earth nor sea nor cloudless sky-
But only spirit wandering wide
Through infinite immensity.
March 22, 2024
after reading the entirety of this collection and absolutely falling in love with Emily Brontë’s poems, only to be hit with the “extra works” at the end where it states that miss ma’am Charlotte Brontë not only heavily edited Emily’s work but also got rid of some after her death, i am sad beyond comprehension. like this was so beautiful, and we could’ve had more??? heartbreak at its finest.
rip Emily Brontë, you would have loved Kate Bush
rip Emily Brontë, you would have loved Kate Bush
May 1, 2022
Emily Brontë’s poems are the last piece of Brontë work I hadn’t read, so I remedied this lack after an inspirational visit to Haworth Parsonage. It’s a bit of a trusim to wonder how these three ‘sheltered virgins’ could write so stirringly about things of which they had little to no direct experience, but I think this is most marked in Emily’s case. Not the bits about sex, desire, and passion, which require no reciprocation – more the parts about revenge, remorse, and warfare. She’s pretty into gore. Also, she writes about having committed acts that are too terrible for forgiveness like she’s committed one. There’s a pervasive sense of wrong being done to her, but also of her having done wrong. And there’s a lot about a miserable and dreary life, counterbalanced at times by flashes of stoical hope, but mainly tipping the balance towards perpetual anguish.
It’s quite clear that a lot of this is written about the imaginary land Gondal, and short of ever finding extant work on the subject the poems are all we have to go on. Perhaps there were more conventional, serial histories written at some point by Emily or Anne. However, these poems show that Emily’s main focus of interest is points of despair and betrayal, usually of the same two personages (although they’re given different names), and their sense of bleary capitulation to malign fate and hope of release only by death. That’s what you can do with poetry, after all, capture one emotion without context. It’s well done, but makes for a depressing experience overall.
Stars:
‘And hide me from the hostile light
That does not warm but burn;
That drains the blood of suffering men –
Drinks tears instead of dew –
Let me sleep through his blinding reign
And only wake with you!’
Remembrance:
‘But when the days of golden dreams had perished,
And even despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened and fed without the aid of joy.’
‘And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain –
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?’
Song:
‘The dweller in the land of death
Is changed and careless too.
And if their eyes should watch and weep
Till sorrow’s source were dry,
She would not, in her tranquil sleep,
Return a single sigh!’
The Prisoner (A Fragment):
‘ ‘He comes with western winds, with evening’s wandering airs,
With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars.
Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire,
And visions rise, and change, that kill me with desire.’
‘ ‘But first, a hush of peace – a soundless calm descends –
The struggle of distress, and fierce impatience ends.
Mute music soothes my breast, unuttered harmony,
That I could never drea till earth was lost to me.’
‘We had no further power to work the captive woe:
Her cheek, her gleaming eye, declared that man had given
A sentence, unapproved and overruled by Heaven.’
A Daydream:
‘ ‘To thee the world is like a tomb,
A desert’s naked shore.
To us, in unimagined bloom,
It brightens more and more!
And could we lift the veil and give
One brief glimpse to thine eye,
Thou wouldst rejoice for those that live,
Because they live to die.’
The Old Stoic:
‘Yes as my swift days near their goal,
‘Tis all that I implore –
In life and death a chainless soul
With courage to endure.’
From ‘Dated Poems’
13:
‘Sweeter far than placid pleasure,
Purer, higher beyond measure,
Yet, alas, the sooner turning
Into hopeless, endless mourning.’
‘All doomed alike to sin and mourn,
Yet all with long gaze fixed afar,
Adoring virtue’s distant star.’
15:
‘Not a vapour had stained the breezeless blue’
36:
‘Thank the power that made thee part
Ere that parting broke thy heart.
Wildly rushed the mountain spring
From its source of fern and ling –
How invincible its roar
Had its waters won the shore.’
45:
‘Yet still steeped in memory’s dyes,
They come sailing on,
Darkening all my summer skies,
Shutting out my sun.’
54:
‘What is that smoke that ever still
Comes rolling down that dark-brown hill?’
71 F. De Samara to A.G.A.:
‘A prayer that would come forth, although it lingered long,
That set on fire my heart, but froze upon my tongue.’
‘There, go, deceiver, go! My hand is streaming wet,
My heart’s blood flows to buy back the blessing – to forget!’
‘Unconquered in my soul, the tyrant rules me still –
Life bows to my control, but love I cannot kill!’
75:
‘The silent night of solemn calm,
The full moon’s cloudless shine,
Were once entwined with thee,
But now, with weary pain –
Lost vision! ‘Tis enough for me –
Thou canst not shine again.’
76:
‘Well, well, the sad minutes are moving,
Though loaded with trouble and pain –
And sometime the loved and the loving
Shall meet on the mountains again.’
81:
‘Is it fear, or is it sorrow
Checks the stagnant stream of joy?
Do we tremble that tomorrow
May our present peace destroy?
For past misery are we weeping?
What is passed can hurt no more,
And the gracious heavens are keeping
Aid for that which lies before.’
83 Lines:
‘Perhaps this is the destined hour
When hell shall lose its fatal power,
And heaven itself shall bend above
To hail the soul redeemed by love.’
86:
‘Alas, as lightning withers
The young and aged tree,
Both they and I shall fall beneath
The fate we cannot flee.’
87 Lines by Claudia:
‘And brighter in the hour of woe
Than in the blaze of victory’s pride,
That glory-shedding star shall glow
For which we fought and bled and died.’
90:
‘What though the stars and fair moonlight
Are quenched in morning dull and grey?
They were but tokens of the night,
And this, my soul, is day.’
133 A.G.A to A.S.:
‘At such a time, in such a spot,
The world seems made of light;
Our blissful hearts remember not
How surely follows night.’
137 At Castle Wood:
‘Dark falls the fear of this despair
On spirits born for happiness,
But I was bred the mate of care,
The foster-child of sore distress.’
OHHHHH EMILY
138 A.G.A to A.S.:
‘I know that I have done thee wrong,
Have wronged both thee and Heaven –
And I may mourn my lifetime long,
Yet may not be forgiven.’
‘Yet thou a future peace shalt win
Because thy soul is clear;
And I who had the heart to sin
Will find a heart to bear.’
142 From a Dungeon Wall in the Southern College:
‘Vainly may their hearts, repenting,
Seek for aid in future years –
Wisdom scorned knows no relenting –
Virtue is not won by tears.’
144 A.E. and R.C.:
‘Guardian angel he lacks no longer –
Evil fortune he need not fear –
Fate is strong, but love is stronger,
And more unsleeping than angel’s care.’
148:
‘I know that justice holds in store
Reprisals for those days of gore –
Not for the blood, but for the sin
Of stifling mercy’s voice within.’
Favourites: Stars; Remembrance; The Prisoner (A Fragment); Hope; Sympathy; The Old Stoic; Dated Poems 5; 18; 31; 34 Lines; 40; 72; 98; 99; 130; 148.
It’s quite clear that a lot of this is written about the imaginary land Gondal, and short of ever finding extant work on the subject the poems are all we have to go on. Perhaps there were more conventional, serial histories written at some point by Emily or Anne. However, these poems show that Emily’s main focus of interest is points of despair and betrayal, usually of the same two personages (although they’re given different names), and their sense of bleary capitulation to malign fate and hope of release only by death. That’s what you can do with poetry, after all, capture one emotion without context. It’s well done, but makes for a depressing experience overall.
Stars:
‘And hide me from the hostile light
That does not warm but burn;
That drains the blood of suffering men –
Drinks tears instead of dew –
Let me sleep through his blinding reign
And only wake with you!’
Remembrance:
‘But when the days of golden dreams had perished,
And even despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened and fed without the aid of joy.’
‘And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain –
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?’
Song:
‘The dweller in the land of death
Is changed and careless too.
And if their eyes should watch and weep
Till sorrow’s source were dry,
She would not, in her tranquil sleep,
Return a single sigh!’
The Prisoner (A Fragment):
‘ ‘He comes with western winds, with evening’s wandering airs,
With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars.
Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire,
And visions rise, and change, that kill me with desire.’
‘ ‘But first, a hush of peace – a soundless calm descends –
The struggle of distress, and fierce impatience ends.
Mute music soothes my breast, unuttered harmony,
That I could never drea till earth was lost to me.’
‘We had no further power to work the captive woe:
Her cheek, her gleaming eye, declared that man had given
A sentence, unapproved and overruled by Heaven.’
A Daydream:
‘ ‘To thee the world is like a tomb,
A desert’s naked shore.
To us, in unimagined bloom,
It brightens more and more!
And could we lift the veil and give
One brief glimpse to thine eye,
Thou wouldst rejoice for those that live,
Because they live to die.’
The Old Stoic:
‘Yes as my swift days near their goal,
‘Tis all that I implore –
In life and death a chainless soul
With courage to endure.’
From ‘Dated Poems’
13:
‘Sweeter far than placid pleasure,
Purer, higher beyond measure,
Yet, alas, the sooner turning
Into hopeless, endless mourning.’
‘All doomed alike to sin and mourn,
Yet all with long gaze fixed afar,
Adoring virtue’s distant star.’
15:
‘Not a vapour had stained the breezeless blue’
36:
‘Thank the power that made thee part
Ere that parting broke thy heart.
Wildly rushed the mountain spring
From its source of fern and ling –
How invincible its roar
Had its waters won the shore.’
45:
‘Yet still steeped in memory’s dyes,
They come sailing on,
Darkening all my summer skies,
Shutting out my sun.’
54:
‘What is that smoke that ever still
Comes rolling down that dark-brown hill?’
71 F. De Samara to A.G.A.:
‘A prayer that would come forth, although it lingered long,
That set on fire my heart, but froze upon my tongue.’
‘There, go, deceiver, go! My hand is streaming wet,
My heart’s blood flows to buy back the blessing – to forget!’
‘Unconquered in my soul, the tyrant rules me still –
Life bows to my control, but love I cannot kill!’
75:
‘The silent night of solemn calm,
The full moon’s cloudless shine,
Were once entwined with thee,
But now, with weary pain –
Lost vision! ‘Tis enough for me –
Thou canst not shine again.’
76:
‘Well, well, the sad minutes are moving,
Though loaded with trouble and pain –
And sometime the loved and the loving
Shall meet on the mountains again.’
81:
‘Is it fear, or is it sorrow
Checks the stagnant stream of joy?
Do we tremble that tomorrow
May our present peace destroy?
For past misery are we weeping?
What is passed can hurt no more,
And the gracious heavens are keeping
Aid for that which lies before.’
83 Lines:
‘Perhaps this is the destined hour
When hell shall lose its fatal power,
And heaven itself shall bend above
To hail the soul redeemed by love.’
86:
‘Alas, as lightning withers
The young and aged tree,
Both they and I shall fall beneath
The fate we cannot flee.’
87 Lines by Claudia:
‘And brighter in the hour of woe
Than in the blaze of victory’s pride,
That glory-shedding star shall glow
For which we fought and bled and died.’
90:
‘What though the stars and fair moonlight
Are quenched in morning dull and grey?
They were but tokens of the night,
And this, my soul, is day.’
133 A.G.A to A.S.:
‘At such a time, in such a spot,
The world seems made of light;
Our blissful hearts remember not
How surely follows night.’
137 At Castle Wood:
‘Dark falls the fear of this despair
On spirits born for happiness,
But I was bred the mate of care,
The foster-child of sore distress.’
OHHHHH EMILY
138 A.G.A to A.S.:
‘I know that I have done thee wrong,
Have wronged both thee and Heaven –
And I may mourn my lifetime long,
Yet may not be forgiven.’
‘Yet thou a future peace shalt win
Because thy soul is clear;
And I who had the heart to sin
Will find a heart to bear.’
142 From a Dungeon Wall in the Southern College:
‘Vainly may their hearts, repenting,
Seek for aid in future years –
Wisdom scorned knows no relenting –
Virtue is not won by tears.’
144 A.E. and R.C.:
‘Guardian angel he lacks no longer –
Evil fortune he need not fear –
Fate is strong, but love is stronger,
And more unsleeping than angel’s care.’
148:
‘I know that justice holds in store
Reprisals for those days of gore –
Not for the blood, but for the sin
Of stifling mercy’s voice within.’
Favourites: Stars; Remembrance; The Prisoner (A Fragment); Hope; Sympathy; The Old Stoic; Dated Poems 5; 18; 31; 34 Lines; 40; 72; 98; 99; 130; 148.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 3, 2024
Didn’t fully finish reading this but I will someday. One of the most beautiful collections of poetry ever.
December 28, 2024
3,5 ⭐️
April 21, 2019
Delicate and tempestuous at the same time, the poems evoke the fantasy world of Gondal and its noble, tormented characters while providing an insight into Emily Bronte's melancholy nature.
October 29, 2024
In dungeons dark I cannot sing -
In sorrow's thrall 'tis hard to smile;
What bird can soar with broken wing?
What heart can bleed and joy the while?
Emily Brontë's only poetry collection, Poems From the Moor, contains over 160 gut-wrenching and impactful poems written during her lifetime. Aside from some more personal poems, a large amount of these published poems are referencing scenes from an imaginary land called Gondal, which Emily and her sister Anne have created and given depth to. Most of the poems were unpublished until the 1900s, after her passing, which is why they possibly contain many more personal topics, as one can see while reading them.
'Twas grief enough to think mankind
All hollow servile insincere -
But worse to trust to my own mind
And find that same corruption there.
All of her poems are masterfully woven and enriched with great language which not many poets could compare to. The most prominent themes are those of death, loneliness and sadness, all of which were astoundingly described and evoke the same feelings in the reader. Other than those themes, some of the more noticeable ones included the transient, ever-changing beauty of nature, forbidden love and friendship and the importance of family. All of these themes perfectly correspond to her enigmatic and melancholic character, and contain the most beautiful characteristics of the romantic (gothic) period in literature. Possibly my favorite is the ever-present memento mori in almost each of her poems, so romantically written that the reader might comprehend death as this beautiful, cathartic occurrence. The symbolism of the moors, which were essentially her writing place and inspiration for Wuthering Heights and most of her poems, is also simply perfect, as she creates such emotional and thought-evoking scenes out of something rather bland and monotonous, proving that every single thing, no matter how it may seem to us, is essentially beautiful.
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away.
Lengthen night and shorten day -
Every leaf speaks bliss to me,
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night's decay
Ushers in a drearier day.
These poems that stab you straight in the heart and twist the knife just a tad bit to make it even more painful are truly one of a kind. Written by the "solitude-loving raven" herself, they are truly exceptional literature. I do find it sad that Emily has not written more works during her lifetime, as I find them a necessary read for all readers who enjoy gothic romanticism.
In sorrow's thrall 'tis hard to smile;
What bird can soar with broken wing?
What heart can bleed and joy the while?
Emily Brontë's only poetry collection, Poems From the Moor, contains over 160 gut-wrenching and impactful poems written during her lifetime. Aside from some more personal poems, a large amount of these published poems are referencing scenes from an imaginary land called Gondal, which Emily and her sister Anne have created and given depth to. Most of the poems were unpublished until the 1900s, after her passing, which is why they possibly contain many more personal topics, as one can see while reading them.
'Twas grief enough to think mankind
All hollow servile insincere -
But worse to trust to my own mind
And find that same corruption there.
All of her poems are masterfully woven and enriched with great language which not many poets could compare to. The most prominent themes are those of death, loneliness and sadness, all of which were astoundingly described and evoke the same feelings in the reader. Other than those themes, some of the more noticeable ones included the transient, ever-changing beauty of nature, forbidden love and friendship and the importance of family. All of these themes perfectly correspond to her enigmatic and melancholic character, and contain the most beautiful characteristics of the romantic (gothic) period in literature. Possibly my favorite is the ever-present memento mori in almost each of her poems, so romantically written that the reader might comprehend death as this beautiful, cathartic occurrence. The symbolism of the moors, which were essentially her writing place and inspiration for Wuthering Heights and most of her poems, is also simply perfect, as she creates such emotional and thought-evoking scenes out of something rather bland and monotonous, proving that every single thing, no matter how it may seem to us, is essentially beautiful.
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away.
Lengthen night and shorten day -
Every leaf speaks bliss to me,
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night's decay
Ushers in a drearier day.
These poems that stab you straight in the heart and twist the knife just a tad bit to make it even more painful are truly one of a kind. Written by the "solitude-loving raven" herself, they are truly exceptional literature. I do find it sad that Emily has not written more works during her lifetime, as I find them a necessary read for all readers who enjoy gothic romanticism.
September 21, 2022
POEMS FROM THE MOOR – Emily Bronte
I have savoured reading this book for a long time. If I had to choose two books only to have with me on a deserted island, or in solitary confinement on an abandoned space station.. it would be the Bible and this book of EB poems.
I’ve commented on other reviews how much I love her work. Even here her ‘undated’ and unfinished poems are as rapturous as any polished poetry (p219-225).
Excellent additional biographical sketch. 5 x 5 stars!
I have savoured reading this book for a long time. If I had to choose two books only to have with me on a deserted island, or in solitary confinement on an abandoned space station.. it would be the Bible and this book of EB poems.
I’ve commented on other reviews how much I love her work. Even here her ‘undated’ and unfinished poems are as rapturous as any polished poetry (p219-225).
Excellent additional biographical sketch. 5 x 5 stars!
January 16, 2025
Book bingo: author uses a pseudonym (sometimes lol)
If Robert Frost is the timeless folk artist Emily Brontë is the lamenting psalmist. My and Emily are like THIS🤞I have never read a poet I consistently feel this SEEN by. Not only do we think about the same things in basically the same ratios but also she’s SO EMO. I LOVE EMO. Emily, why did you have to miss me by 177 years we could’ve been best friends??
If Robert Frost is the timeless folk artist Emily Brontë is the lamenting psalmist. My and Emily are like THIS🤞I have never read a poet I consistently feel this SEEN by. Not only do we think about the same things in basically the same ratios but also she’s SO EMO. I LOVE EMO. Emily, why did you have to miss me by 177 years we could’ve been best friends??
March 17, 2020
It took me 3 months to read all of these poems because I'm not super into poetry, and, because the themes of these poems are extremely similar, I got very tired of reading very quickly. However, the poems are good and exactly what you'd expect from Emily Brontë. If you liked the moodiness of Wuthering Heights, you will like these poems.
October 28, 2018
Ach Emily, gäbe es doch nur mehr von dir zu lesen! So muss ich es wohl bei Wuthering Heights und dieser wunderschönen Ausgabe deiner Gedichte belassen...
August 27, 2019
Will write a proper review when I've had time to think.
December 28, 2019
Dark but feels like you are in amongst the trees on an autumns morning as Brontë paints the scenery so well.
April 14, 2023
she ate
August 23, 2023
no one does it like her. lyrical, gloomy and sad. BEAUTIFUL.
June 10, 2024
I wish the Gondal poems were in a separate edition with perhaps an explanation of what we do know about this world that Anne and Emily created, but the poetry is still of course incredible
July 11, 2024
Urgh, she’s so good
September 10, 2024
The shortest possible review: perfection.
December 20, 2024
The queen of doom, gloom, death and nature!
March 13, 2025
Feelings of death and dying, the weather and sky and birds and trees being beautiful, random yearning. I understand.
April 14, 2023
After visiting the moors of Haworth, and the Brontë parsonage last year, I was doubly inspired to read Emily Brontë’s celebrated poetry. In Wuthering Heights, it’s impossible not to notice the hallmarks of lyrical writing and poetic descriptions, and it certainly follows that Emily’s actual poems are just as visceral, haunting, and mournfully beautiful as her prose. With every poem, I was endlessly struck by her imagination and boundless freedom of thought. She was so incredibly ahead of her time that it’s no wonder her family didn’t quite know what to make of her talents. I couldn’t help but be reminded of America’s own poet Emily — Dickinson, of course. Born of a different time and circumstance, it’s impossible not to see a serendipitous connection between these two Emilys… With their unique voices that are complimentarily reminiscent of each other. I loved this collection and highly recommend it!
Favorite quotes:
“I am the only being whose doom
No tongue would ask, no eye would mourn;
I never caused a thought of gloom,
A smile of joy since I was born.
In secret pleasure, secret tears,
This changeful life has slipped away
As friendless after eighteen years,
As lone as on my natal day.
There have been times I cannot hide;
There have been times when this was drear,
When my sad soul forgot its pride
And longed for one to love me here.
But those were in the early glow
Of feelings not subdued by care,
And they have died so long ago
I hardly now believe they were.
First melted off the hope of youth,
Then fancy's rainbow fast withdrew,
And then experience told me truth
In mortal bosoms never grew.
'Twas grief enough to think mankind
All hollow servile insincere -
But worse to trust to my own mind
And find the same corruption there.”
Favorite quotes:
“I am the only being whose doom
No tongue would ask, no eye would mourn;
I never caused a thought of gloom,
A smile of joy since I was born.
In secret pleasure, secret tears,
This changeful life has slipped away
As friendless after eighteen years,
As lone as on my natal day.
There have been times I cannot hide;
There have been times when this was drear,
When my sad soul forgot its pride
And longed for one to love me here.
But those were in the early glow
Of feelings not subdued by care,
And they have died so long ago
I hardly now believe they were.
First melted off the hope of youth,
Then fancy's rainbow fast withdrew,
And then experience told me truth
In mortal bosoms never grew.
'Twas grief enough to think mankind
All hollow servile insincere -
But worse to trust to my own mind
And find the same corruption there.”
July 29, 2023
“ I know that tonight the wind is sighing /The soft August wind over forest and moor/ while I am in a grave – like chill am lying /on the damp black flag of my dungeon floor”
These are the lines which are written by the writer of the famous Gothic Novel Wuthering Heights ;Emily Bronte. She was the second of the three Bronte sisters . Although she wrote poems and stories from a young age , Wuthering Heights was here only published novel . Her life was tragically cut short by tuberculosis.
Poems from the Moor is a poetry collection consisting of poems such as ‘Faith and Despondency “, “Stars”, ”Remembrance” , “Hope” and many more ; out of which only twenty-one of Emily’s poems were published in her lifetime , her poetic oeuvre is rich and varied and not only includes visionary poems but also it features the poems that describe the imagined realm of Gondal and its inhabitants with her sister Anne.
Poems from the Moor consist of poetry that captures the transcendent beauty of nature observed by Emily Bronte on the Yorkshire moors as well as fierce and forceful confrontation of morality .The poems are powerful and passionate , they gave solace to 16 year old me , who had people loved and supported her but somehow always found comfort in solitude .
This collection is for every Emily Bronte or as Charlotte Bronte’s description of Emily “a solitude loving raven ,not a gentle dove”.
I would highly recommend this poetry collection as it provides comfort to every soul, who loves solitude or don’t ; As a social chameleon , whose social circle changes drastically as the years went by , but one thing remained constant my love for solitude , music and the Poems from the Moor .
These are the lines which are written by the writer of the famous Gothic Novel Wuthering Heights ;Emily Bronte. She was the second of the three Bronte sisters . Although she wrote poems and stories from a young age , Wuthering Heights was here only published novel . Her life was tragically cut short by tuberculosis.
Poems from the Moor is a poetry collection consisting of poems such as ‘Faith and Despondency “, “Stars”, ”Remembrance” , “Hope” and many more ; out of which only twenty-one of Emily’s poems were published in her lifetime , her poetic oeuvre is rich and varied and not only includes visionary poems but also it features the poems that describe the imagined realm of Gondal and its inhabitants with her sister Anne.
Poems from the Moor consist of poetry that captures the transcendent beauty of nature observed by Emily Bronte on the Yorkshire moors as well as fierce and forceful confrontation of morality .The poems are powerful and passionate , they gave solace to 16 year old me , who had people loved and supported her but somehow always found comfort in solitude .
This collection is for every Emily Bronte or as Charlotte Bronte’s description of Emily “a solitude loving raven ,not a gentle dove”.
I would highly recommend this poetry collection as it provides comfort to every soul, who loves solitude or don’t ; As a social chameleon , whose social circle changes drastically as the years went by , but one thing remained constant my love for solitude , music and the Poems from the Moor .
February 5, 2025
"She turns - she meets the murderer's gaze - her own is scorched with a sudden blaze - the blood streams down her brow; the blood streams through her coal-black hair - she strikes it off with little care; she scarcely feels it flow, for she has marked and known him too, and his own heart's ensanguined dew, must slake her vengeance now!"
I enjoyed reading this collection of Bronte's work which I have always been a fan of. Some poems weren't nearly as compelling as others but the ones that I loved hit. I especially love when Bronte is unapologetically afraid to delve into her darker, gothic side as a writer and I think that's where her poems shine best. Knowing about Bronte's life as well also made the poems more interesting and heartfelt, knowing the grief that was closely linked with her for the majority of her life. Some pretty good poems.
I enjoyed reading this collection of Bronte's work which I have always been a fan of. Some poems weren't nearly as compelling as others but the ones that I loved hit. I especially love when Bronte is unapologetically afraid to delve into her darker, gothic side as a writer and I think that's where her poems shine best. Knowing about Bronte's life as well also made the poems more interesting and heartfelt, knowing the grief that was closely linked with her for the majority of her life. Some pretty good poems.
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