2013年12月31日 星期二

“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
 
(Written by Emily Dickinson, 1830 – 1886)

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