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FICKLE HOPE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Hope, is this thy hand
Last Line: Wilt flee, or wilt thou stay?


HOPE, is this thy hand
Lies warm as life in mine?
Is this thy sign
Of peace none understand?

What! art thou not steadfast?
From off the blue air's beach
Wilt lean and reach
The price of pity past?

I know not if I may
Believe thee, Hope, or doubt:
With pretty pout
Wilt flee, or wilt thou stay?





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