what thou art may never be destroyed. 


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 thy 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 
Since thou art Being and Breath 
And what thou art may never be destroyed. 

Emily Brontë

No Coward Soul Is Mins