I've always hoped knowing I hoped as people who know
Better hope, against hope, for the most irrational hope,For undeserved blessings, spontaneous remissions, things
Of that sort, as the wicked and the lazy and the living hope,
As the deserving, the not here, the nowhere never have to hope again.
When I with my last hope am dashed, whatever world remains likely
May loathe my failure to confess I kept fate waiting at the door.
I do not hope to convince, then, when I'm not, but I'll hazard now:
I kept all well behind that door, well beyond the hour appointed,
And I saw my others joyful, all my candles at dark windows.
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