HOPE is a dream dreamed by the mummied past, Or sound inside an egg; loved hearts with ours To wed, as some bee-go-between the flowers, She woman-like e'er walketh over-fast, Half-frightened by odd shadows that are cast In front from just behind; hers are all powers By which the unknown helps the known; she towers Where through the rainbow we would stride at last. The solemn snow and silver hair are hers, For folded linen clothes and napkins wrapped Together by themselves: each neat bud bears Witness to her deft fingers, who ne'er tapped At Memory's door and found her smileless, kissed Blind Love and left unfound the path he missed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I LOOKED FOR LIFE AND DID A SHADOW SEE by JAMES GALVIN TIRED TIM by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE RIGHT MUST WIN by FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER HOW ARE YOU, SANITARY?' by FRANCIS BRET HARTE IPHIGENEIA AND AGAMEMNON, FR. THE HELLENICS by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR O, BREATHE NOT HIS NAME! by THOMAS MOORE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 26. MID-RAPTURE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 5. THE LOCH by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |