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Andrew Davidson |
Spellbound
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 beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing dear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.
Emily Brontë
“Nothing dear can move me.” Does anyone else know that frozen feeling?
That paralyzed state of being? That turned-into-stone sensation?
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