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.
For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
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.
