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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115525" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Apostasy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">This last denial of my faith,<br>Thou, solemn Priest, hast heard;<br>And, though upon my bed of death,<br>I call not back a word.<br>Point not to thy Madonna, Priest,--<br>Thy sightless saint of stone;<br>She cannot, from this burning breast,<br>Wring one repentant moan.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou say'st, that when a sinless child,<br>I duly bent the knee,<br>And prayed to what in marble smiled<br>Cold, lifeless, mute, on me.<br>I did. But listen! Children spring<br>Full soon to riper youth;<br>And, for Love's vow and Wedlock's ring,<br>I sold my early truth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas not a grey, bare head, like thine,<br>Bent o'er me, when I said,<br>"That land and God and Faith are mine,<br>For which thy fathers bled."<br>I see thee not, my eyes are dim;<br>But well I hear thee say,<br>"O daughter cease to think of him<br>Who led thy soul astray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Between you lies both space and time;<br>Let leagues and years prevail<br>To turn thee from the path of crime,<br>Back to the Church's pale."<br>And, did I need that, thou shouldst tell<br>What mighty barriers rise<br>To part me from that dungeon-cell,<br>Where my loved Walter lies?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, did I need that thou shouldst taunt<br>My dying hour at last,<br>By bidding this worn spirit pant<br>No more for what is past?<br>Priest--MUST I cease to think of him?<br>How hollow rings that word!<br>Can time, can tears, can distance dim<br>The memory of my lord?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I said before, I saw not thee,<br>Because, an hour agone,<br>Over my eyeballs, heavily,<br>The lids fell down like stone.<br>But still my spirit's inward sight<br>Beholds his image beam<br>As fixed, as clear, as burning bright,<br>As some red planet's gleam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Talk not of thy Last Sacrament,<br>Tell not thy beads for me;<br>Both rite and prayer are vainly spent,<br>As dews upon the sea.<br>Speak not one word of Heaven above,<br>Rave not of Hell's alarms;<br>Give me but back my Walter's love,<br>Restore me to his arms!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then will the bliss of Heaven be won;<br>Then will Hell shrink away,<br>As I have seen night's terrors shun<br>The conquering steps of day.<br>'Tis my religion thus to love,<br>My creed thus fixed to be;<br>Not Death shall shake, nor Priestcraft break<br>My rock-like constancy!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now go; for at the door there waits<br>Another stranger guest;<br>He calls--I come--my pulse scarce beats,<br>My heart fails in my breast.<br>Again that voice--how far away,<br>How dreary sounds that tone!<br>And I, methinks, am gone astray<br>In trackless wastes and lone.<br> <br>I fain would rest a little while:<br>Where can I find a stay,<br>Till dawn upon the hills shall smile,<br>And show some trodden way?<br>"I come! I come!" in haste she said,<br>"'Twas Walter's voice I heard!"<br>Then up she sprang--but fell back, dead,<br>His name her latest word.</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=115525" data-title="Apostasy de Charlotte Brontë" data-description="This last denial of my faith,/Thou, solemn Priest, hast heard;/And, though upon my bed of death,/I call not back a word./Point not to thy Madonna, Priest,--/Thy sightless saint of stone;/She cannot, from this burning breast,/Wring one repentant mo..."></div>
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