Thursday, October 7, 2010




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


Myrna R. said...

So sweet Erin. Your spirit is reviving. How nice. I love the words you weave and may hope remain with us always.

Knitting with Beer said...

Congratulations, you've been awarded the lovely blog award! I hope you will claim it.

Char said...

one of my favorites - i always read it when i'm having a tough time. you picked the perfect shots to go with the poem.

Anonymous said...

so so so sweet!!

Unknown said...

I love that poem! I'm happy to read it here. Let that bird keep singing in your heart.

Anonymous said...

I think they will make some money off me too sooner or later! I'm still kind of scared about not knowing where I put a book. Still in love with your pictures. Always so well put together and beautiful.

Roxanne said...

What a perfect poem to end the week. You're always so positive Erin, I love that about you!

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