No Coward Soul Is Mine

Today is my stepmum’s funeral. She died very suddenly and it has been an odd couple of weeks; although I didn’t know her very well, she was always kind and supportive. After she died one of my favourite poems, No Coward Soul Is Mine by Emily Bronte, kept running through my head. I thought I would post it here today. If you’d like some good analysis of it, you can find some here.

No Coward Soul Is Mine

No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven’s glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from Fear.

O God within my breast,
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life – that in me hast rest,
As I – Undying Life- have power in Thee!

Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men’s hearts, unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,

To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by Thine infinity;
So surely anchored on
The steadfast rock of immortality.

With wide-embracing love
Thy Spirit animates eternal years,
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates and rears

Though Earth and moon were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou wert left alone,
Every Existence would exist in Thee.

There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou – Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.

3 thoughts on “No Coward Soul Is Mine

  1. jakedrum says:

    Thank you for posting this very lovely poem. I didn’t know it but I suffered a close bereavement very recently and reading No Coward Soul Is Mine is an excellent opportunity to look again at where in me that pain of loss is and the memories of the loved one both good and bad and to contemplate on entropy, loss and immortality, of sorts. Great, anyway, thanks. Got me going all prosaic!

  2. jakedrum says:

    Thank you. How lovely, careful but not stilted. I like Philip Larkin’s work. There is an awkwardness there which for me it’s part of the attraction but it is at the same time subtle and even a little brash. I’ve only read a few of his poems and at the moment I’m going back to Aubade again and again. Might not be your cup of tea but I thought I’d pass it on, if you don’t already know it –

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