Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the words without the tune, and never stops at all.
There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons-- That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes--
If I can stop one Heart from breaking I shall not live in vain If I can ease one Life the Aching, or cool one Pain, Or help one fainting Robin into his Nest again, I shall not live in Vain.
One need not be a chamber to be haunted; One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place.
My life closed twice before its' close- It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me. So huge, so hopeless to concieve As these that twice befell. Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.
Hope is a thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without words And never stops at all.
Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul. And sings the tune Without the words, and never stops at all.
Becuase I could not stop for Death He kindly stopped for me The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality