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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Blanche Dismorr

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Charlotte Bronte

Blanche Dismorr

On reading her letters to M. Héger

O PROUD! O passionate! what desperate pain

Subdued that haughty soul, that iron will—

Bowed that stiff neck, wore that wild spirit, till

It bit the dust, and, broken, rose again!

What feverish, trembling fingers held the pen

Which traced those delicate characters—the cry

Of one too hungry-hearted, plain and shy,

Baffled and stung by the strange moods of men.

Discarded fragments, eloquent and rare,

Carelessly torn by man without regret;

Roughly sewn up, with some parts missing yet,

How many a woman’s heart lies bleeding there!