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Hope

by Solitaire Miles

Hope is the Thing with Feathers by 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, 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.
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LicenseAll Rights Reserved
Work In ProgressNo

Face-Off Statistics

Number of face-offs: 123

Won
52%
Lost
29%
Drawn
19%

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