Love Poetry :
Love Poems - 1800s :
Hope is a Thing With Feathers

Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings a tune without 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 keeps so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea
Yet, never, in extremity
It ask a crumb of me.

Emily Dickinson

This tip was submitted by an anonymous visitor to our website.

Printer Friendly Version
Pretty Version - for Gift Giving

Forward Tip To a Friend