Poem #2

Hope, William Cowper

As when two pilgrims in a forest stray,

Both may be lost, yet each in his own way;

So fares it with the multitudes beguiled

In vain opinion’s waste and dangerous wild;

Ten thousand rove the brakes and thorns among,

Some eastward, and some westward, and all wrong.

But here, alas! the fatal difference lies,

Each man’s belief is right in his own eyes;

And he that blames what they have blindly chose,

Incurs resentment for the love he shews.


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