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 chilliest land,
And on the strangest sea:
Yes, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
And I found another challenge at Scrap That Poetry
This is the Old North Church in Boston, MA...yes, history lovers, the famous Paul Revere "One if by land, two if by sea" and I love walking the Freedom Trail. I love Boston. Talk about a town that was built around hope.