Related Authors: Emily Dickinson | The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson










Hope is the thing with feathersThat 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 stormThat could abash the little birdThat kept so many warm.I've heard it in the chilliest landAnd on the strangest sea;Yet, never, in extremity,It asked a crumb of me.
Related Authors: Emily Dickinson | The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
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