Emily Jane Bronte

1818-1848

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Created by: Danielle J. Anderson

BiographyEmily Jane Bronte: An Inspiring Character in a Simple Life

“Emily has been characterized to mythic proportions as deeply spiritual, free-spirited and reclusive as well as intensely creative and passionate, an icon to tortured genius” (Merriman 1).

This quote by C. D. Merriman in their biography of Emily Bronte describes her true character, and it shows through her poetry at every turn. Emily Jane Bronte was born on July 30th, 1818 to Maria Branwell and Patrick Bronte. She came into the world as the fifth child to the Bronte family at 74 Market Street, Thorton, Bradford, Yorkshire, England. Her father was an Irish clergyman, and her mother died of cancer when Bronte was three years old; just after her sixth child was born (Merriman 1). Bronte’s father had a love of poetry and had published several books of verse and prose. Bronte’s childhood was spent with her siblings (Anne, Charlotte, Maria, Elizabeth, and Patrick “Branwell”)reading the works of Shakespeare, Virgil, John Milton, the Bible, and articles in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Fraser's Magazine, and Edinburgh Review (Liukkonen 1). The children also entertained themselves with playing the piano, learning needlepoint, and telling stories (Merriman 1). Patrick Bronte always encouraged his children to write and explore their creativity, and the children did, leading to their start in writing (Jennings). Together they began writing their imaginary world of Angria, before Anne and Emily Bronte broke off to write their own world of Gondal. Bronte also had a deep love of her home in Haworth, England, where her family had moved shortly after Anne was born. Her home would continue to be a constant source of comfort and inspiration for Bronte, and a place she never could seem to leave for long. Throughout her life Bronte went through several tragedies close to home.

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First was her mother’s death, then a few years later her sisters Elizabeth and Maria died from an epidemic at Cowan Bridge School. At last her brother, who had become a drug addict and an alcoholic, died in 1848. This wounded Bronte deeply, as she and her brother had always been particularly close. At Patrick “Branwell” Bronte’s funeral she contracted tuberculosis, and died soon after on December 19th, 1948. Emily Jane Bronte now rests with her family at their vault at the Church of St. Michael and All Angels in Haworth, West Yorkshire, England (Merriam 1).

Emily Bronte began writing at an early age among her sisters and brother. She first began when creating their imaginary world Angria, then Gondal. Bronte was a very independent but reserved young woman, and as she grew older, she remained in her world of Gondal. Gondal was a source of inspiration and strength for her throughout her life, it made her into a strong woman with a powerful character, and it showed up in her poetry as well. Bronte’s imaginary world was ruled by a woman, and it was a place where she could be who she wanted to instead of conforming to the nineteenth century idea of how a woman should act and be (Jennings 1). Bronte’s education was not constant and she was often ill. She started at Cowan Bridge School, where she stayed with her sisters until an epidemic spread and two of her sisters died. Soon after, Bronte and her two remaining sisters went home. Then, at 17, she attended Roe Head School, before she became ill again and returned home (Jensen 1). She and her two sisters decided to publish their work together, all under male names; Bronte’s being Ellis Bell (Jennings 1). Their poems were published in one slim volume: Poems by Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell. This book only sold two copies, and afterwards each sister began working on a novel (Jensen 1).

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Bronte’s was Wuthering Heights, today a famous novel, but what started out as minimally popular (Liukkonen 1). As a child, Bronte had read many books by authors such as William Shakespeare, Virgil, John Milton, and the Bible, writers who inspired her (Merriman 1). As she grew older, Bronte became a poet with a very distinct writing style.

Emily Bronte has a poetry style accustomed to her personality with several reoccurring themes and techniques. Bronte’s poems almost all have underlying themes of loss of love, death, or passion in them. The only poems she has that are even remotely happy are when she writes about her homeland, which she loved deeply and could never seem to be apart from for very long. Bronte was very withdrawn and made no close friends outside of her family, but in her novel and poetry she wrote as if she experienced joy of love, the sadness of the loss of love, and the passion when you still possess it. (Tallman 1). Several main ideas behind Bronte’s poems was her vision of human suffering. She realized as a young woman that there were many things wrong with society and that all people suffered. Since all people suffer, she thought everyone should be treated the same (Jennings 1). Bronte used several poetic devices, such as strong imagery, rhyme constant in all her poems, frequent metaphors, and personification. Bronte has made a few contributions to poetry and writing. The first is in her novel Wuthering Heights, when she used a narrator that was highly unreliable, which was unheard of in the nineteenth century. Similarly unheard of was the use of multi vocal narrators. Also in her poems, Bronte refused to make the meaning clear; instead she preferred to make them ambiguous. These two forms were used more often later on, Bronte being one of the first to utilize them (Liukkonen 1).  

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Biography (cont.)Bronte was a very courageous soul, even though she was inhibited. Even to her last days, she possessed a strong and beautiful nature, and this is expressed by her sister Charlotte in the quote, “Never in all her life had she lingered over any task that lay before her, and she did not linger now. She sank rapidly. She made haste to leave us. Yet, while physically she perished, mentally she grew stronger than we had yet known her. Day by day, when I saw with what a front she met suffering, I looked on her with anguished wonder and love...Stronger than a man, simpler than a child, her nature stood alone. The awful point was, that while full of ruth for others, on herself she had no pity...” (Tallman 1).

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List of Works “A Day Dream” “A Death Scene” “Hope” “How Clear She Shines” “Last Lines” “My Comforter” “The Old Stoic” “The Prisoner” “Self-Interrogation” “The Night-Wind” “No Coward Soul is Mine” “Stars” “A Little While, A Little While” “Anticipation” “Death” “Encouragement” “Faith And Despondency” “Honour's Martyr” “Last Words” “Loud Without The Wind Was Roaring” “Love And Friendship” “No Coward Soul Is Mine” “Plead For Me”

“Remembrance” “Shall Earth No More Inspire Thee” “Song” “Stanzas” “Stanzas To ----” “Stanzas-” “Sympathy” “The Bluebell” “The Elder's Rebuke” “The Lady To Her Guitar” “The Philosopher” “The Two Children” “The Visionary” “The Wanderer From The Fold” “To Imagination” “Warning And Reply” Wuthering Heights Poems by Currer, Ellis, And Acton

Bell

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Ah! why, because the dazzling sunRestored our earth to joyHave you departed, every one,And left a desert sky?

All through the night, your glorious eyesWere gazing down in mine,And with a full heart's thankful sighsI blessed that watch divine!

I was at peace, and drank your beamsAs they were life to meAnd reveled in my changeful dreamsLike petrel on the sea.

Thought followed thought star followed starThrough boundless regions on,While one sweet influence, near and far,Thrilled through and proved us one.

Why did the morning dawn to breakSo great, so pure a spell,And scorch with fire the tranquil cheekWhere your cool radiance fell?

Blood-red he rose, and arrow-straightHis fierce beams struck my brow:The soul of Nature sprang elate,But mine sank sad and low!

My lids closed down, yet through their veilI saw him blazing still;And steep in gold the misty daleAnd flash upon the hill.

I turned me to the pillow thenTo call back Night, and seeYour worlds of solemn light, againThrob with my heart and me!

It would not do the pillow glowedAnd glowed both roof and floor,And birds sang loudly in the wood,And fresh winds shook the door.

The curtains waved, the wakened fliesWere murmuring round my room,Imprisoned there, till I should riseAnd give them leave to roam.

O Stars and Dreams and Gentle Night;O Night and Stars return!And hide me from the hostile lightThat 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!

“Stars” by Emily Bronte

To analysis of “Stars”

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Analysis of the poem “Stars”

The poem “Stars” by Emily Bronte creates vivid and intense imagery all the way throughout the poem. This beautifully written poem tells about the author’s deep love of the night sky and the stars in it. It’s about the breaking of dawn after a long and peaceful night, the intensely bright sun burning Bronte instead of bringing her the joy that the stars do. Bronte writes about how she wishes she could wake only with the night instead of the sun, such as in the lines, “O Stars and Dreams and Gentle Night/O Night and Stars return/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!” She describes how much the stars mean to her, talking about the cool radiance of their beams. Emily Bronte’s rich imagery prompts the reader to delve deep and really feel what she’s saying, examples of this showing in lines like, “Blood-red he rose, and arrow-straight/His fierce beams struck my brow/The soul of Nature sprang elate/But mine sank sad and low/My lids closed down, yet through their veil/I saw him blazing still/And steep in gold the misty dale/And flash upon the hill.” The author makes the reader recall how it feels to wake up to the light hitting your closed eyes, feeling the blazing sun upon your face, jolting you awake and keeping you up. Emily Bronte chose to use imagery in this poem instead of any other technique to really suck the reader in. She wanted anyone who read “Stars” to feel the way she did, to see the world through her eyes. Although she was a very withdrawn young woman, she had a great understanding of the world, and the beauty within it. Bronte wanted to share this as well, and using such vivid descriptions would at the very least make the reader want to experience the tranquility and magnificence of the night sky as Bronte saw it. The poem “Stars” was made far better and more interesting with Bronte’s amazing imagery, and the overall effect is a breathtaking piece of art in the form of poetry.

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The poem “No Coward’s Soul is Mine” by Emily Bronte is a poem that shows her courage. This poem is the last she wrote in her lifetime, when she was sick and dying. It’s about how Bronte isn’t afraid to die, and she knows what awaits her in heaven. She says how even though earth and everything on it may disappear, God will not because he is almighty, and she expresses this in lines such as “Though earth and man were gone/And suns and universes ceased to be/And Thou were left alone/Every existence would exist in Thee.” I chose this poem because of Bronte’s strength of character showing through, really revealing her to the reader. Bronte was a brave woman all throughout her life, and I think that really shows in the very beginning lines, “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.”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 creedsThat move men's hearts: unutterably vain;Worthless as withered weeds,Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,

To waken doubt in oneHolding so fast by thine infinity;

So surely anchored onThe steadfast rock of immortality.

With wide-embracing loveThy 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

“No Coward’s Soul is Mine” by Emily Bronte

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The poem “The Bluebell” by Emily Bronte describes her love of spring and summer. Bronte expresses her love of the warm seasons through this poem, which talks about how beautiful the Bluebell is, and then fall and winter comes, and she writes about how sad she becomes. I chose this poem because I understand how Bronte was feeling, I get the same way when winter comes and wipes away all the color of summer. My favorite line that really shows Bronte’s sadness at the winter is “The Bluebell cannot charm me now/The heath has lost its bloom/The violets in the glen below/They yield no sweet perfume.”

The Bluebell is the sweetest flowerThat waves in summer air:Its blossoms have the mightiest powerTo soothe my spirit's care.

There is a spell in purple heathToo wildly, sadly dear;The violet has a fragrant breath,But fragrance will not cheer,

The trees are bare, the sun is cold,And seldom, seldom seen;The heavens have lost their zone of gold,And earth her robe of green.

And ice upon the glancing streamHas cast its somber shade;And distant hills and valleys seemIn frozen mist arrayed.

The Bluebell cannot charm me now,The heath has lost its bloom;The violets in the glen below,They yield no sweet perfume.

But, though I mourn the sweet Bluebell,'Tis better far away;I know how fast my tears would swellTo see it smile to-day.

For, oh! when chill the sunbeams fallAdown that dreary sky,And gild yon dank and darkened wallWith transient brilliancy;

How do I weep, how do I pineFor the time of flowers to come,And turn me from that fading shine,To mourn the fields of home!

“The Bluebell” by Emily Bronte

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Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away’Lengthen night and shorten day;Every leaf speaks bliss to meFluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snowBlossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night's decay

Ushers in a drearier day.

“Fall, Leaves, Fall”By Emily Bronte

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“Bloom, Flowers, Bloom”

Bloom, flowers, bloom; leaves come back today.

Birds sing merry little tunes,Creatures come out to play,Romping about under the moon.  I will smile when April cries its

showers.Turning green what once was

brown, I will sing when May smiles its

flowers,Welcoming spring to all of town.

June, July, let them rein hot.Cool rains falling, down, down. When August comes, don’t let

the warm weather stop,Even when September makes

the plant life brown.

But I will not dismay,Even when snow, covers the

plain,Because I know soon, it will be

May,And the flowers will be back

again.

A poem Inspired by Emily Bronte’s “Fall, Leaves, Fall”

By Danielle Anderson

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The moon is full this winter night;The stars are clear, though few;And every window glistens brightWith leaves of frozen dew.

The sweet moon through your lattice gleams,And lights your room like day;And there you pass, in happy dreams,The peaceful hours away!

While I, with effort hardly quellingThe anguish in my breast,Wander about the silent dwelling,And cannot think of rest.

The old clock in the gloomy hallTicks on, from hour to hour;And every time its measured callSeems lingering slow and slower:

And, oh, how slow that keen-eyed

starHas tracked the chilly gray!What, watching yet! how very farThe morning lies away!

Without your chamber door I stand;Love, are you slumbering still?My cold heart, underneath my hand,Has almost ceased to thrill.

Bleak, bleak the east wind sobs and sighs,And drowns the turret bell,Whose sad note, undistinguished, diesUnheard, like my farewell!

To-morrow, Scorn will blight my name,And Hate will trample me,Will load me with a coward's shame--A traitor's perjury.

“Honour’s Martyr” by Emily Bronte Biography

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“Honour’s Martyr” by Emily Bronte (cont.)

False friends will launch their covert sneers;True friends will wish me dead;And I shall cause the bitterest tearsThat you have ever shed.

For, who forgives the accursed crimeOf dastard treachery?Rebellion, in its chosen time,May Freedom's champion be;

Revenge may stain a righteous sword,It may be just to slay;But, traitor, traitor,--from THAT wordAll true breasts shrink away!

Oh, I would give my heart to death,To keep my honour fair;

Yet, I'll not give my inward faithMy honour's NAME to spare!

Not even to keep your priceless love,Dare I, Beloved, deceive;This treason should the future prove,Then, only then, believe!

I know the path I ought to goI follow fearlessly,Inquiring not what deeper woeStern duty stores for me.

So foes pursue, and cold alliesMistrust me, every one:Let me be false in others' eyes,If faithful in my own.

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Moonlit Night poem inspired by Emily Bronte’s

“Honour’s Martyr” by Danielle Anderson

The moon was full this winter night,Shining her light all around.She watched with silent eyes, All who wander upon the ground. No judgment she gives,No thanks she needs,For the pure white light that shines

tonight. It climbs over the hills,And spills in the valleysCreeps through the forests,And plays on the seas. The soundless watch she keeps,While the sun is off away,Provides the world with muted light.

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Spring a poem by Danielle Anderson

The best spring day Is hard to describeThe colors, the sights,The sounds and the smells The sky is a neon bright blue,Cloudless and large.The grass is an emerald green,Sparkling with drops of dew, and

smelling like spring. The flowers are blooming,All the bright colors of a painter’s

palette.Playgrounds are in full swingThe sun is a burning yellow disk, high

in the sky. The weather is warm,Not too hot and not too cold.The sun reaches down,

To warm your skin. When the rain comes down,It’s a comforting pit pattering on the

window,It nourishes the plant life,Urging it to grow.

The perfect spring day,Is hard to describe,The colors, the sights,The sounds and the smells.

But all those can be illustrated,With careful adjectives and nouns,The thing that is most hard to

express,Is the feeling of pure joy that the day

brings with it.

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Musica poem by Danielle Anderson

Music It flows through the riversSings through the mountainsDips with the valleysAnd courses over the plains MusicIt can pull you up when you’re

downJust find the right song and sing

alongIt can make you feel like you’re

flyingOr that you can do anything MusicIt’s the fabric of lifeIn everything you hear You don’t need an amazing singer Or a lead guitarist

 MusicIt’s in the water rushing through

the riverThe bluebird whistling a tuneThe wind whispering through the

leavesThe wolf pack howling in the night MusicThe choirs of angelsOr a band of teenagersEveryone can do, anyone can sing

itIt’s in everything and it’s

everywhereAll you have to do is listen.

Music.

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Water a poem by Danielle AndersonWater, Water

Falling downGoing, flowingMoving aroundThrowing sparkles, mist, and

rainbows Water, water falling down Making waves, making rainTsunamis, hurricanes, floodsCreating, destroyingGood things and bad Water, water falling downOceans, rivers, lakes and streamsProviding life forAnimals, plants and humansWater, water breathing life

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Bibliography http://www.wc.pdx.edu/emilybronte/emilybronte.html:

Hope Jennings http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/ebronte.htm: Petri Liukkonen http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/classic_literature/4682

2 : Susan Jensen

http://www.online-literature.com/bronte/ : C. D. Merriman and list of works

http://www.victoriaspast.com/EmilyBronte/listenplease.html : Melissa C. Tallman

http://www.quotationsofwisdom.com/view/Emily_Bronte/3333.html -Wuthering Heights picture

http://persianhealthint.com/camelot-emily-bronte-a-biography/ -poet picture

http://www.csulb.edu/~csnider/brontes.html - Bronte sisters http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/emily_bronte/poem

s/4185: “Fall, Leaves, Fall” poem

http://www.poetry-archive.com/b/bronte_emily.html : List of Works

http://art110.wikispaces.com/Yang-Melissa-b2 : “Moonlit Night”

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Bibliography (cont.) http://jamestaggart.com/fine-art.html - “Honour’s Martyr”(slide

2) http://7art-screensavers.com/fascinating_waterfalls.shtml -

“Water” http://maranathacci.org/heaven - “No Coward’s Soul is Mine” http://www.douglloydphotography.com/8628.html -”The

Bluebell” http://www.southernmaineastronomers.org/HTML/MeetingSche

dule.html - “Stars”

http://www.aggiemoms.org/pages/Boutique%20Files%20and%20Forms/Aggie_Moms_Boutique_Workshop_website_hyperlinks%5B1%5D.htm “Music”

http://freepowerpointbackground.com/nature/free-nature-powerpoint-backgrounds.html title page background

http://imagineahappieryou.com/4733/its-spring.html - “Spring”  

http://www.softpedia.com/progScreenshots/Winter-night-Screensaver-Screenshot-116116.html - “Honour’s Martyr” (slide one)

http://www.illustratedlight.com - “Bloom, Flowers, Bloom” http://www.tripadvisor.com –”Fall, Leaves, Fall”

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