Branwell Brontë died peacefully at the Brontë Parsonage Museum 160 years ago. His father and sisters were all saddened by the loss of one who once was their biggest hope but also relieved that his struggles, his despair, had come to an end at last. He himself left us quite an eloquent poem, written in 1837, before his terrible final years.
Morn comes and with it all the stir of morn
New life new light upon its sunbeams born
The Magic dreams of Midnight fade away
And Iron labour rouses with the day.
He who has seen before his sleeping eye
The times and smiles of childhood wandering by
The Memory of years gone long ago
And sunk and vanished now in clouds of woe
He who still young in dreams of days to come
Has lost all memory of his native home
Whose untracked future opening wide before
Shews him a smiling heaven and happy shore
While things lhat are frown dark and drearily
And sunshine only beams on things to be.
To such as these night is not all a night
For one in eve beholds his morning bright
The other basking in his earliest morn
Feels noontide summer oer his spirit dawn
But that worn wretch who tosses night away
And counts each moment to returning day
Whose only hope is dull and dreamless sleep
Whose only choice to wake and watch and weep
Whose present pains of body or of mind
Shut out all glimpse of happiness behind
Whose present darkness hides ihe faintest light
Which yet might struggle through a milder night.
And he like me whom active cares engage
Without the glare of youth or gloom of age
Who must not sleep upon his idle oar
Lest iifes wild tempests dash him to the shore
Whom High Ambition calls aloud to awake
Glory his goal and death or life his slake
And long and nigged his rough race to run
Ere he can rest to enjoy his laurels won
To these the night is weariness and pain
And blest the hour when day shall rise again
Mid visions of the future or the past
Others may wish the shades of night to last
Round these alone the present ever lies
And these will first awake when Morning calls Arise!
Categories: Branwell Brontë, Reminder
He did not die 200 years ago. He died 24 September 1848, 160 years ago. He was not even alive 200 years ago.
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