~ 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


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Thank you for sharing a moment with me:-)

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