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    • 3 years ago

    254 "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. the meaning of this poem given by emily wingspaninson

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    1. Cryptic57
      • 3 years ago
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      Lovely, wingspaninson could write them - sometimes.

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    spraguer (Moderator)
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