Some Of My Favorite Poems/Quotes


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8. Poem #4

"Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings a 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.

 

It've heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

~Emily Dickinson

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