Emily Brontë -- THE OLD STOIC

THE OLD STOIC

                                                                Emily Brontë (1818-1848)

            ICHES I hold in light esteem,
            And Love I laugh to scorn;
            And lust of fame was but a dream
            That vanish'd with the morn:
            
            And, if I pray, the only prayer
            That moves my lips for me
            Is, 'Leave the heart that now I bear,
            And give me liberty!'
            
            Yea, as my swift days near their goal,
            'Tis all that I implore:
            In life and death a chainless soul,
            With courage to endure.