Poem by Emily Jane Brontë

* * *

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. 

1. The Visionary
2. The Wind Was Rough Which Tore
3. Often Rebuked, Yet Always Back Returning
4. Self-Interrogation
5. Yes, Holy Be Thy Resting Place

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