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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115520" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Preference</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not in scorn do I reprove thee,<br>Not in pride thy vows I waive,<br>But, believe, I could not love thee,<br>Wert thou prince, and I a slave.<br>These, then, are thine oaths of passion?<br>This, thy tenderness for me?<br>Judged, even, by thine own confession,<br>Thou art steeped in perfidy.<br>Having vanquished, thou wouldst leave me!<br>Thus I read thee long ago;<br>Therefore, dared I not deceive thee,<br>Even with friendship's gentle show.<br>Therefore, with impassive coldness<br>Have I ever met thy gaze;<br>Though, full oft, with daring boldness,<br>Thou thine eyes to mine didst raise.<br>Why that smile ? Thou now art deeming<br>This my coldness all untrue,<br>But a mask of frozen seeming,<br>Hiding secret fires from view.<br>Touch my hand, thou self-deceiver,<br>Naybe calm, for I am so:<br>Does it burn ? Does my lip quiver?<br>Has mine eye a troubled glow?<br>Canst thou call a moment's colour<br>To my foreheadto my cheek?<br>Canst thou tinge their tranquil pallor<br>With one flattering, feverish streak?<br>Am I marble ? What ! no woman<br>Could so calm before thee stand ?<br>Nothing living, sentient, human,<br>Could so coldly take thy hand ?<br>Yesa sister might, a mother:<br>My good-will is sisterly:<br>Dream not, then, I strive to smother<br>Fires that inly burn for thee.<br>Rave not, rage not, wrath is fruitless,<br>Fury cannot change my mind;<br>I but deem the feeling rootless<br>Which so whirls in passion's wind.<br>Can I love? Oh, deeplytruly<br>Warmlyfondlybut not thee;<br>And my love is answered duly,<br>With an equal energy.<br>Wouldst thou see thy rival? Hasten,<br>Draw that curtain soft aside,<br>Look where yon thick branches chasten<br>Noon, with shades of eventide.<br>In that glade, where foliage blending<br>Forms a green arch overhead,<br>Sits thy rival thoughtful bending<br>O'er a stand with papers spread<br>Motionless, his fingers plying<br>That untired, unresting pen;<br>Time and tide unnoticed flying,<br>There he sitsthe first of men!<br>Man of conscienceman of reason;<br>Stern, perchance, but ever just;<br>Foe to falsehood, wrong, and treason,<br>Honour's shield, and virtue's trust!<br>Worker, thinker, firm defender<br>Of Heaven's truthman's liberty;<br>Soul of ironproof to slander,<br>Rock where founders tyranny.<br>Fame he seeks notbut full surely<br>She will seek him, in his home;<br>This I know, and wait securely<br>For the atoning hour to come.<br>To that man my faith is given,<br>Therefore, soldier, cease to sue;<br>While God reigns in earth and heaven,<br>I to him will still be true!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charlotte+Bront%C3%AB">Charlotte Brontë</a> from <i>Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115520" data-title="Preference de Charlotte Brontë" data-description="Not in scorn do I reprove thee,/Not in pride thy vows I waive,/But, believe, I could not love thee,/Wert thou prince, and I a slave./These, then, are thine oaths of passion?/This, thy tenderness for me?/Judged, even, by thine own confession,/Thou ..."></div>
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