HOPE
"Hope was but a timid friend
She sat without my grated den
Watching how my fate would tend
Even as self-hearted men
She was cruel in her fear.
Through the bars, one dreary day
I looked to see her there
And she turned her face away!
Like a false guard false watch keeping
Still in strife she whispered peace;
She would sing while I was weeping,
If I listened she would cease.
False she was and unrelenting.
When my last joys strewed the ground
Even sorrow saw repenting
Those sad relics scathered round.
Hope-whose whisper would of given
balm to all that frenzied pain.
stretched her wings and soared to heaven.
Went- and ne'er returned again."
-Emily Bronte