Hope in this day of ruin Is a dead bird; Fling her up and she flaps A parody of flight, Only to fall twice-dead at your feet. Hope is the body of a woman You once loved, Grown cold beyond entreaty. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 6 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: 7. THE MEASURE OF BEAUTY by THOMAS CAMPION AUTUMN MORNING AT CAMBRIDGE by FRANCES CROFTS DARWIN CORNFORD THE SUN GOD by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE LINES COMPOSED AT GRASMERE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH APRIL by MARY RUSSELL BARTLETT THE CHERUBS; SUGGESTED BY AN APOLOGUE IN THE WORKS OF FRANKLIN by THOMAS CAMPBELL |