speaking of hope…
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, “hope is the thing with feathers”
This entry was posted on Tuesday, July 15th, 2008 at 12:02 pm and is filed under Deep Thoughts.... You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.