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The Old Stoic by Emily Brontë | Poets.org
Riches I hold in light esteem,
And Love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of fame was but a dream,
That vanished 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!"
Yes, as my swift days near their goal:
'Tis all that I implore;
In life and death a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.
About This Poem
Emily Brontë was born on July 30, 1818, in Thornton, England. She is best known for her only novel Wuthering Heights, widely considered one of the greatest in the English language. Brontë died in 1848.