Post 2043259 by adelheid@mastodon.technology
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(DIR) Post #2043259 by adelheid@mastodon.technology
2018-12-17T02:57:03Z
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Reminded of this poem, Hope, by Emily Dickenson.“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 BirdThat 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.