How Still, How Happy! ~ A Poem by Emily Jane Bronte

Loving December as Much as July: The Quiet Wisdom of Stillness

What if happiness isn’t found in excitement—but in learning to sit quietly with the season you’re in?

How Still, How Happy!

Emily Jane Bronte

How still, how happy! Those are words
    That once would scarce agree together;
    I loved the plashing of the surge,
    The changing heaven the breezy weather,

    More than smooth seas and cloudless skies
    And solemn, soothing, softened airs
    That in the forest woke no sighs
    And from the green spray shook no tears.

    How still, how happy! now I feel
    Where silence dwells is sweeter far
    Than laughing mirth’s most joyous swell
    However pure its raptures are.

    Come, sit down on this sunny stone:
    ‘Tis wintry light o’er flowerless moors,
    But sit, for we are all alone
    And clear expand heaven’s breathless shores.

    I could think in the withered grass
    Spring’s budding wreaths we might discern;
    The violet’s eye might shyly flash
    And young leaves shoot among the fern.

    It is but thought, full many a night
    The snow shall clothe those hills afar
    And storms shall add a drearier blight
    And winds shall wage a wilder war,

    Before the lark may herald in
    Fresh foliage twined with blossoms fair
    And summer days again begin
    Their glory, haloed crown to wear.

    Yet my heart loves December’s smile
    As much as July’s golden beam;
    Then let us sit and watch the while
    The blue ice curdling on the stream.

Source

Reflection

Emily Brontë’s poem reveals a quiet emotional evolution—from craving motion and noise to discovering peace in stillness. What once felt lifeless now feels rich with presence. The speaker learns that happiness does not depend on seasons, weather, or outward excitement, but on an inner capacity to rest with what is. Winter is no longer an enemy of joy; it becomes its own teacher. Stillness sharpens perception, allowing imagination to see spring hidden within frost. This poem gently reminds us that maturity often brings a deeper love of calm, solitude, and acceptance—where contentment is no longer loud, but enduring.

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As you read this poem, ask yourself:

Where in my life am I being invited to appreciate stillness rather than resist it?