Emily Brontë

The Brontë Garden

 It's the birthday of the author and poet Emily Brontë.
Emily's older sister, by two years, was Charlotte. Her younger sister and closest friend was Anne. They were two peas in a pod.
Emily's mom died when she was three. She lost two older sisters, Maria and Elizabeth when she was six. The result of this loss was an exceptional closeness between the four surviving Brontë children: Charlotte, Emily, Anne, and Branwell.
Emma Emmerson wrote a piece called the Brontë Garden. In it she revealed:

“The Brontës were not ardent gardeners, although… Emily and Anne treasured their currant bushes as ‘their own bit of fruit garden’."

Charlotte [once wrote:]

"Emily wishes to know if the Sicilian Pea (Pisum sativum)and the Crimson cornflower are hardy flowers, or if they are delicate and should be sown in warm and sheltered situations."

Emily's father, Patrick, once wrote;

"Oh why, in the snow and storms of December,
When the branches lie scattered and strewn,
Do we oftest and clearest and dearest remember
The sunshine and summer of June?"

Emily Brontë wrote:

"Reason, indeed, may oft complain
For Nature's sad reality,
And tell the suffering heart, how vain
Its cherished dreams must always be;
And Truth may rudely trample down
The flowers of Fancy, newly-blown.
Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree—
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?
The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who will call the wild-briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly’s sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He still may leave thy garland green.
Friendship is like the holly tree. 
The holly is dark when the rose-brier blooms, 
But which will bloom most constantly?
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day."

This post was featured on
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Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë

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