[THE GRAVE OF HOPE]
There's a wild little gnome in the wood
Who sings as he digs a grave
Of Hope that soars and Hope that flies
And Hope that singes her wings, and lies
In peace where the willows wave.
And he croons in the pauses of toil,
A shivering song of Fears,
The lean black shades of Hope so fair
Who weave her nets with her golden hair