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Emily Dickinson - Hope Is the Thing With Feathers

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Hope Is the Thing With Feathers

‘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.
 
Хвала!
thanked 18 times
Поставио/ла: FrogFrog У: Недеља, 24/09/2017 - 17:34
Last edited by FrogFrog on Недеља, 16/09/2018 - 08:17

 

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FrogFrog    Недеља, 16/09/2018 - 08:17

Added. Thank you!

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