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“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.
0
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
(314) 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.
This is one of my favorite poems , & it has helped me through a lot of things in my life. I thought that maybe , just maybe , it could help one of you too...
emily-ryen
Written by
28/F/USA
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
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