The Old Stoic

Emily Brontë(1818–1848)

1846

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 prayerThat moves my lips for meIs, 'Leave the heart that now I bear,And give me liberty!'

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 The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë, via the English Wikisource transcription.

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