I have fled my country and gone to the heather. - Emily Brontë

Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.

Yes, as my swift days near their goal
'Tis all that I implore
In life and death a chainless soul
With courage to endure

The Night Is Darkening Round M

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.