This is a poem, written by Emily Dickson. It's a wonderful literature piece, and I hope you discover the magic in the poem like I have.
Hope
Emily Dickson
Hope is a thing with feathers,
That perches on the soul,
And sings the tune-without the words,
And never stops at all.
The sweetest gale is heard,
And sore must be storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest sea,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet never in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
A beautiful metaphor, poem, literature piece, whatever you wish to call it. This inspired me when I was young to write.
 Wind Before Storm · Thu Nov 26, 2009 @ 02:35pm · 1 Comments |
