Explore "Frances. Currer Bell" by Charlotte Brontë on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
She will not sleep, for fear of dreams, / But, rising, quits her restless bed, / And walks where some beclouded beams / Of moonlight through the hall are shed.
Obedient to the goad of grief, / Her steps, now fast, now lingering slow, / In varying motion seek relief / From the Eumenides of woe.