Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, O MOTHER I AM NOT REGRETTING, by EMILY JANE BRONTE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

O MOTHER I AM NOT REGRETTING, by             Poem Explanation     Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
Alternate Author Name(s): Bell, Ellis
Subject(s): Mortality; Mourning; Mothers; Bereavement


O mother! I am not regretting
To leave this wretched world below,
If there be nothing but forgetting
In that dark land to which I go.

Yet though 'tis wretched now to languish,
Deceived and tired and hopeless here,
No heart can quite repress the anguish
Of leaving things that once were dear.

Twice twelve short years and all is over,
And day and night to rise no more,
And never more to be a rover
Along the fields, the woods, the shore.

And never more at early dawning
To watch the stars of midnight wane,
To breathe the breath of summer morning,
And see its sunshine ne'er again.

I hear the abbey bells are ringing;
Methinks their chime sounds faint and drear,
Or else the wind is adverse winging,
And wafts its music from my ear.

The wind the winter night is speaking
Of thoughts and things that should not stay:
Mother, come near, my heart is breaking;
I cannot bear to go away.

And I must go whence no returning
To soothe your grief or calm your care;
Nay, do not weep; that bitter mourning
Tortures my soul with wild despair.

No; tell me that when I am lying
In the old church beneath the stone,
You'll dry your tears and check your sighing,
And soon forget the spirit gone.

You've asked me long to tell what sorrow
Has blanched my cheek and quenched my eye;
And we shall never cry to-morrow,
So I'll confess before I die.

Ten years ago in last September
Fernando left his home and you,
And still I think you must remember
The anguish of that last adieu.

And well you know how wildly pining
I longed to see his face again,
Through all the Autumn drear deceiving
Its stormy nights and days of rain.

Down on the skirts of Areon's Forest
There lies a lone and lovely glade,
And there the hearts together nourished,
Their first, their fatal parting made.

The afternoon in softened glory
Bathed each green swell and waving tree,
And the broad park spread before me
Stretched towards the boundless sea.

And there I stood when he had left me,
With ashy cheek and tearless eye,
Watching the ship whose sail bereft me
Of life and hope, and love and joy.

It past: that night I sought a pillow
Of sleepless woe and grieving lone;
My soul still bounded o'er the billow,
And mourned a love for ever flown.

Yet smiling bright in recollection
One blissful hour returns to me;
The letter told of firm affection,
Of safe deliverance from the sea.

But not another; fearing, hoping,
Spring, winter, harvest glided o'er;
And time at length brought power for coping
With thoughts I could not once endure.

And I would seek in summer evening
The place that saw our last farewell,
And there a chain of visions weaving,
I'd linger till the curfew bell.






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