Emily

Emily Dickinson wrote many poems that I love. This one is one of my very favorite ones:


Hope, by Emily Dickinson

"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."

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Tomorrow I will post another. And maybe a picture of the finished glove. The glove which at this moment has the strangely oriented ( I kid you not) middle finger. I hope to have it replaced and working with the others by this evening.