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Sunday, February 18, 2018

Emily Dickinson on Feathers

Poets Org

Emily Dickinson wrote:

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.
 
Thank you Poets Org for the kindness of posting these verses. 
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