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Sunday, April 13, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
"Hope Is the Thing With Feathers"
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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.
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Thursday, April 3, 2008
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