Sunday, October 30, 2011

Hope


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.




By Emily Dickison

"Animal locomotion", 1872/85. Eadward Muygridge

No comments:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger... Share on Tumblr