Hope, in Michael John Pickering's poem, isn't a cheerful feeling. It is a stubborn refusal. Again and again the speaker names something painful, then answers it with "but we shall not." The world stands between two people, mistakes cloud their judgment, and bitterness sits in their mouths. Each time, the speaker insists the damage won't be final: they won't be separated, lost, or made bitter.
The structure matters. The first six lines work in pairs, trouble followed by promise, which gives the poem a steady, almost chanted rhythm. Then the pattern shifts. The "wide way" is dark, but "a bright close one" exists, suggesting a narrow, harder path that leads somewhere better. The ending admits that separation and sorrow are real, yet it closes on "And again union," with no full stop, as if reunion is still unfolding.
The mood is quiet, determined, and tender. The speaker doesn't deny pain; they simply trust that the two of them can come through it.