Poetry Archives

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.