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Слушать(AI)Hope
Hope was but a timid friend-She sat without my grated
Watching how my fate would
Even as selfish-hearted men.
She was cruel in her fear.
Through the bars, one dreary day,
I looked out to see her
And she turned her face away!
Like a false guard false watch
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
Even sorrow saw
Those sad relics scattered round;
Hope - whose whisper would have
Balm to all that frenzied pain - Stretched her wings and soared to heaven;
Went- and ne'er returned again!
Emily Jane Bronte
Emily Jane Brontë (30 July 1818 – 19 December 1848) was an English novelist and poet who is best known for her only novel, Wuthering Heights, no
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