Well Big Frank hasn't heard any objections to the recent Dickinson travesty so here's another one. First Emily - she does some wonderful stuff with abstract virtues. Here's her take on "hope".
LXXXVI
By Emily Dickinson
Hope is a subtle glutton;
He feeds upon the fair;
And yet, inspected closely,
What abstinence is there!
His is the halcyon table
That never seats but one,
And whatsoever is consumed
The same amounts remain.
This is a tough one - in that there really isn't much to work with. It is all very abstract. Hope at the table alone taking in and taking in, but never consumating the meal. Well Big Frank turned the last one around, so let's try it again this time. South of hope is disillusionment so let's try that. And to ease the task a bit - let's allow a little more phrasing lattitude, but keep to a neat metaphor in two stanzas on a downer abstraction.
Disillusionment
By Big Frank Dickinson
Disillusionment a confident gambler;
Easy determination; no risk;
And yet, inspected closely,
What faltering there is.
His is the visioned gain;
That image drives him on;
But truth dispells the trance;
And will sprawls shattered, gone.
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