Hope by Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë wrote some amazing poetry, and this is just one example. I love this poem because it flies in the face of the belief that hope can get one through all trials and tribulations. I certainly don’t discount that hope can be wonderful, but I hardly think that’s a foregone conclusion. This poem reminds me of a line from The Shawshank Redemption (a fantastic film!): “Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane.”
Hope
By Emily Brontë
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!
