Maxioms by Emily Dickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops read more
Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops at all.
Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition
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Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition
So clear of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break agonized and clear.
Where thou art, that is home.
Where thou art, that is home.
How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!
How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!
