He comes with western winds

In this room

in the evening

Emily Bronte

was looking to the stars

 and wrote poems like this

“He comes with western winds, with evening’s wandering airs,

With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars.

Then dawns the Invisible; the Unseen its truth reveals;

My outward sense is gone, my inward essence feels:

Its wings are almost free—its home, its harbour found,

Measuring the gulph, it stoops and dares the final bound,

“Oh I dreadful is the check—intense the agony—

When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see;

When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again;

The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.