Monday, July 14, 2008


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.
~Emily Dickinson~


Marci said...

Very nice!! Have you read any of Edgar Guest's poems?

Mississippi Songbird said...

Awww. That's the cutest little birdie and I love the poem. Thanks for sharing.

The Sisters said...

Hi Marci,
No, we haven't.We will have to google him and find some!

Lisa said...

We do loe our birds. :) Beautiful post girl's and I love the Chris sligh song~ Love ya's Mama