Necesito un poema en inglés que rime?

Hope was but a timid friend ; She sat without the grated den, Watching how my fate would tend, Even as selfish - hearted men.

She was cruel in her fear ; Through the bars, one dreary day, I looked out to see her there, And she turned her face away!

Like a false guard, false watch keeping, 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 ground, Even Sorrow saw, repenting, Those sad relics scattered round ; Hope, whose whisper would have given Balm to all my frenzied pain, Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven, Went, and ne'er returned again!

Emily Brontë.