HOPE by EMILY DICKINSON

HOPE

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.

--Emily Dickinson

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.

Blessings,

Elaine