There is no Frigate like a Book To take us Lands away Nor any Coursers like a Page Of prancing Poetry β This Traverse may the poorest take Without oppress of Toll β How frugal is the Chariot That bears a Human soul.
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.