Hope was but a timid friend-
She sat without my 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 that frenzied pain -
Stretched her wings and soared to heaven;
Went- and ne'er returned again!
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Beauty
She was cruel in her fear..emily..was such a wonderful poetess but an unfortunate person...hope had no meanings in her life.wuthering hights is her life story in abstract form.Look at the expression...
When my last joys strewed the ground
Even sorrow saw repenting
very nice , deep and sad thought... -
So pretty (and sad, too). I love the personification.
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good
nie poem and im usining it for my projet
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