_
_
_
_
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,
_
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.
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.
_
This poem is part of a much larger poem called, Life.
_
Thank you mom for my wonderful Emily Dickinson book - I've enjoyed it so very much!!
_
(Me - On My 5th Birthday)
_
P.S. Hugs (xxx) and kisses (ooo) you're the best mom ever!!
_
0 comments:
Post a Comment