Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell

  Often rebuked, yet always back returning
     To those first feelings that were born with me,
     And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning
     For idle dreams of things which cannot be:

     To-day, I will seek not the shadowy region;
     Its unsustaining vastness waxes drear;
     And visions rising, legion after legion,
     Bring the unreal world too strangely near.

     I'll walk, but not in old heroic traces,
     And not in paths of high morality,
     And not among the half-distinguished faces,
     The clouded forms of long-past history.

     I'll walk where my own nature would be leading:
     It vexes me to choose another guide:
     Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding;
     Where the wild wind blows on the mountain side.

     What have those lonely mountains worth revealing?
     More glory and more grief than I can tell:
     The earth that wakes one human heart to feeling
     Can centre both the worlds of Heaven and Hell.

The following are the last lines my sister Emily ever wrote:—

     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 withered weeds,
     Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,

     To waken doubt in one
     Holding so fast by thine infinity;
     So surely anchored on
     The stedfast 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 ceased 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.