Sisters are brittle things. God was penurious with me, which makes me shrewd with Him. One is a dainty sum! One bird, one cage, one flight; one song in those far woods, as yet suspected by faith only!
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without words and never stops at all.
One need not be a Chamber β to be Haunted β One need not be a House β The Brain has Corridors β surpassing Material Place β
I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there βs a pair of usβdonβt tell! They βd banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog!
The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care
'Hope' is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without words And never stops - at all.
