Saturday, April 9, 2011

Fantastic Five Friday! (on Saturday)

Since yesterday I was busy getting my 100 Follower Giveaway off the ground and running I didn't have time to post my Fantastic Five Friday like normal. So here it is on Saturday, for the second week in a row. Let's see if this time Blogger actually cooperates! But if you have not entered my Giveaway, please to yesterday's post and do so because I'm super excited about it. You have until April 20 to enter.

And back to FFF! I figured I'd continue with our Bronte theme from the Giveaway AND incorporate National Poetry Month at the same time (clever, eh?). So for this FFF I'm featuring the poetry of Anne Bronte. Did you know that she was actually more known for her poetry than for her novels? In fact, I hadn't even realized she had written two books until it was pointed out to me by a friend about 6 months ago!

So here are some of her poems that I enjoy, and I hope you all will too :) *Most of her poems are all quite long so I'm only going to include 3 here but a full list can be found HERE*
A Prisoner in a Dungeon Deep
A prisoner in a dungeon deep
Sat musing silently;
His head was rested on his hand,
His elbow on his knee.
Turned he his thoughts to future times
Or are they backward cast?
For freedom is he pining now
Or mourning for the past?

No, he has lived so long enthralled
Alone in dungeon gloom
That he has lost regret and hope,
Has ceased to mourn his doom.

He pines not for the light of day
Nor sighs for freedom now;
Such weary thoughts have ceased at length
To rack his burning brow.

Lost in a maze of wandering thoughts
He sits unmoving there;
That posture and that look proclaim
The stupor of despair.

Yet not for ever did that mood
Of sullen calm prevail;
There was a something in his eye
That told another tale.

It did not speak of reason gone,
It was not madness quite;
It was a fitful flickering fire,
A strange uncertain light.

And sooth to say, these latter years
Strange fancies now and then
Had filled his cell with scenes of life
And forms of living men.

A mind that cannot cease to think
Why needs he cherish there?
Torpor may bring relief to pain
And madness to despair.

Such wildering scenes, such flitting shapes
As feverish dreams display:
What if those fancies still increase
And reason quite decay?

But hark, what sounds have struck his ear;
Voices of men they seem;
And two have entered now his cell;
Can this too be a dream?

'Orlando, hear our joyful news:
Revenge and liberty!
Your foes are dead, and we are come
At last to set you free.'

So spoke the elder of the two,
And in the captive's eyes
He looked for gleaming ecstasy
But only found surprise.

'My foes are dead! It must be then
That all mankind are gone.
For they were all my deadly foes
And friends I had not one.'

The Captive Dove
Poor restless dove, I pity thee;
And when I hear thy plaintive moan,
I mourn for thy captivity,
And in thy woes forget mine own.

To see thee stand prepared to fly,
And flap those useless wings of thine,
And gaze into the distant sky,
Would melt a harder heart than mine.

In vain-in vain! Thou canst not rise:
Thy prison roof confines thee there;
Its slender wires delude thine eyes,
And quench thy longings with despair.

Oh, thou wert made to wander free
In sunny mead and shady grove,
And, far beyond the rolling sea,
In distant climes, at will to rove!

Yet, hadst thou but one gentle mate
Thy little drooping heart to cheer,
And share with thee thy captive state,
Thou couldst be happy even there.

Yes, even there, if, listening by,
One faithful dear companion stood,
While gazing on her full bright eye,
Thou mightst forget thy native wood.

But thou, poor solitary dove,
Must make, unheard, thy joyless moan;
The heart, that Nature formed to love,
Must pine, neglected, and alone.

Oppressed with sin and woe,
A burdened heart I bear,
Opposed by many a mighty foe:
But I will not despair.
With this polluted heart
I dare to come to Thee,
Holy and mighty as Thou art;
For Thou wilt pardon me.

I feel that I am weak,
And prone to every sin:
But Thou who giv'st to those who seek,
Wilt give me strength within.

Far as this earth may be
From yonder starry skies;
Remoter still am I from Thee:
Yet Thou wilt not despise.

I need not fear my foes,
I need not yield to care,
I need not sink beneath my woes:
For Thou wilt answer prayer.

In my Redeemer's name,
I give myself to Thee;
And all unworthy as I am
My God will cherish me.

O make me wholly Thine!
Thy love to me impart,
And let Thy holy spirit shine
For ever on my heart!

So there you are. I hope you go to that website and look at more of her stuff. I'm not religious and I know a lot of it, like that last poem, is about God, but I take it my own way and as such I read it as very pro-woman and even feminist. My favorite is The Captive Dove.

And don't forget to enter my Giveaway! I won't stop harping on you all until you do ;)


Deborah Lawrenson said...

Great post, llevinso. And this is the terrific thing about blogging and reading blogs: I never knew I was going to be reading and thinking about Anne Bronte this Saturday afternoon - and I'm very glad I did.

Stephanie M. Hasty said...

i didn't even know anne wrote poetry.
national poetry month, hoorah!!!

Karen Wojcik Berner said...

Happy National Poetry Month. :)

llevinso said...

Thank you all :) And Happy National Poetry Month to you as well!