Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me
Emily Dickinson
5 comments:
Happy Valentine's Day!
Hope is a thing with feathers...love this.
How are you holding up?
I am collecting info over at my blog for an experiment.
Happy Valentine's Day, LK! I love the poem - I never think to read Emily Dickenson and why should that be when she is so fab??
I love that picture. Did you do it?
Thank you all!
Beaman, I wish I could take credit, but no, I didn't do the picture.
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