Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.

-- R. Burns Epistle to a Young Friend

Monday, October 17, 2016

Living in Hope

Things are still busy, so I thought I might remind everyone of Emily Dickinson's little poem -- "Hope Is The Thing With Feathers":

'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. 


julie said...

Very timely, Mushroom.

These days, I hope for the best, and expect the worst. And pray, no matter what.

mushroom said...

Yes, that's about what I was thinking.