Brontë Trilogy

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,
And the storm is fast descending
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds upon clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes here below
But nothing here can move me;
I cannot, I will not go.