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In the third and fourth quatrain of ‘On the Death of Anne Brontë’, the speaker turns her thoughts to God. She simultaneously sees God’s choice to take Anne as a “cloud” and as a mercy. She knows that Anne, the “darling of [her] life” has moved on to a better place, and it is due to God that she is there.
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere, But most where trees are sending. Their breezy boughs on high, Or stooping low are lending. A shelter from the sky. And there in those wild bowers. A lovely form is laid; Green grass and dew-steeped flowers. Wave gently round her head.
The heavens have lost their zone of gold. The earth its robe of green; And ice upon the glancing stream. Has cast its sombre shade. And distant hills and valleys seem. In frozen mist arrayed -. The blue bell cannot charm me now. The heath has lost its bloom, The violets in the glen below.
Emily Jane Brontë, född 30 juli 1818 [ 2] i Thornton, West Yorkshire, död 19 december 1848 i Haworth, West Yorkshire, var en brittisk författare, känd för sin enda publicerade roman Svindlande höjder. Den räknas till den klassiska engelska litteraturen och kommer fortfarande under 2000-talet i nya upplagor.
Emily Jane Brontë (ejtsd: emili dzséjn bronti) ( Thornton, 1818. július 30. – Haworth, 1848. december 19.) angol költőnő és regényíró, az angol romantika talán legnagyobb prózaírója, a Brontë nővérek három tagja közül a második. Egyetlen regénye, az Üvöltő szelek (Wuthering Heights) nemcsak az angol irodalom egyik ...
13 de may. de 2024 · Emily Brontë (born July 30, 1818, Thornton, Yorkshire, England—died December 19, 1848, Haworth, Yorkshire) was an English novelist and poet who produced but one novel, Wuthering Heights (1847), a highly imaginative work of passion and hate set on the Yorkshire moors. Emily was perhaps the greatest of the three Brontë sisters, but the record ...
A little and a lone green lane. That opened on a common wide; A distant, dreamy, dim blue chain. Of mountains circling every side; A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air; And, deepening still the dream-like charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere. That was the scene, I knew it well;
