They say don’t lose hope, they know not what they mean
Hope is naught but a fanciful dream.
It holds one in place like a dress-maker’s seam
Only to fall by the bloody sword’s gleam.
It falls through the cracks like a waterfall’s stream
Till caught by one with troubled eyes keen.
It then leaves like a mouse once it’s been seen
Then they say don’t lose hope, but they know not what they mean.