Hope
Hope was but a timid friend;
She sat without the grated den,
Watching how my fate would tend,
Even as selfish-hearted men.
She was cruel in her fear;
Through the bars, one dreary day,
I looked out 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 scattered round;
Hope, whose whisper would have given
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne'er returned again!
By Emily Bronte
Or so I thought ….
A Burst of Hope
by Debra Heylen
‘Till the sound of his voice
Speaking oh so eloquently
Filled my head
Seductively
And suddenly
My timid friend Hope with others
Returned ... singing their promises
E'er so gently.
Returned ... singing their promises
E'er so gently.
