If we could walk every day,
As men with a hope for something better,
Then better we would be.
And the best would surely come.
And even when it doesn't,
That ethereal bliss of expectancy
Would gracefully soothe our souls;
Frail as it may be, we would find peace.
For hope is nothing but a chance; a will;
A solemn prayer;
One with which we hold dear to our beliefs.
Hope is that little voice we pray to hear,
Deep in the depths of our despair;
Lodged firmly in the corners of our hearts,
It is that musical symphony that never parts.
If we should be thankful for anything,
Then the glorious myth ‘hope' ought to be one.
Cos many and lots have been saved,
And all these because of a myth that told them to hold on.
Mifa words's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Hope by Mifa words )
- Green Signal, Asit Kumar Sanyal
- I will search, Emmanuel George Cefai
- A smile, Emmanuel George Cefai
- दोँ नै, Ronjoy Brahma
- As a lovely flower, Emmanuel George Cefai
- Slow As a trickling tap, Emmanuel George Cefai
- To meet you, Emmanuel George Cefai
- Enchanted grail, Emmanuel George Cefai
- Eyes of night, Emmanuel George Cefai
- The violin played, Emmanuel George Cefai
Poem of the Day
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- My Love Is Like To Ice, Edmund Spenser
(July 15 1964)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Heather Burns
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)