The following verse from Emily Bronte's poem "Remembrance", written in 1845, is part of a lament over the grave of a lover by one of her imaginery charcters. However real or imaginery the bereavement in the poem may have been, the grief she portrays is not pretend. She wrote from the heart, knowing what she was talking about, and it is one of her finest poems.
"But, when the days of golden dreams had perished,
And even Despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy."
Has anyone ever compared the experience she describes here with Jean Paul-Sartre's 'life on the other side of despair' about which he wrote so many years later?
"But, when the days of golden dreams had perished,
And even Despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy."
Has anyone ever compared the experience she describes here with Jean Paul-Sartre's 'life on the other side of despair' about which he wrote so many years later?
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