Thursday, June 30, 2011


“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

1 comment:

  1. Hettienne, this shadowbox assemblage is wonderful! I love all of the elements you included in it. The angel wings, the poem, and the nest are all such wonderful bits. Beautiful!


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