#254 ("'Hope' is the thing with feathers –")
by Emily Dickinson
"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.
Sunday, January 1, 2006
a poem for the new year
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