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.

when that which is and that which was -apart – intrinsic standand this brief tragedy of flesh is shifted like a sand

of all the souls that stand create

Had I not seen the Sun
I could have borne the shade

Because I could not stop for Death–
He kindly stopped for me