The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow ;
But a tyrant spell has bound me,
And I cannot, cannot go.
The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow ;
The storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.
Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below ;
But nothing drear can move me :
I will not, cannot go.
More verses by Emily Jane Brontë
- A Little Budding Rose
- Death, That Struck When I Was Most Confiding
- How Beautiful The Earth Is Still
- How Still, How Happy!
- If Grief For Grief Can Touch Thee