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
sugar likes you and your blog..kissy
ReplyDeleteThank you for all your comments on my blog. Apologies for not visiting sooner!
ReplyDeleteI love Emily Dickinson. I'm a big poetry fan and post some on my blog now and again. Click on poetry in the side bar to see. I don't know whether you're familiar with a modern English poet called Henry Normal? I love his poems.
There's one here: http://fashionsmostwanted.blogspot.com/2009/11/nude-modelling-for-afterlife.html
Hope you have a lovely weekend xx
Hmmm. Don't like the rhyme and metre. Must have been something in the water that Dickinson and Longfellow were drinking.
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ReplyDeletei can get behind that! i like it..short n sweet
ReplyDeleteHope sure sounds like the crows in the morning that never shut the hell up.
ReplyDeleteThat's pretty good :)
ReplyDeleteReally nice, i like it
ReplyDeleteShort and sweet. This guy did a great job on the poetry! Ooohh how I missed out on so much =P hehe
ReplyDeleteI was reciting this at school a few days ago :) I think it´s really nice.
ReplyDeletexx
Simona
http://thepicnicwithzebra.blogspot.com/
I ♥ Emily Dickinson! great choice
ReplyDeleteLove this.
ReplyDeletex
classic poem is classic. :)
ReplyDeletefollowing!