THE OLD STOIC

 

Riches I hold in ligth esteem,

And love I laugh to scorn,

And lust of fame was but a dream

That vanished with te 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

Uit 'Poems of Solitude' van Emily Brontë