Hind's Feet

To a Young Mother (I haven't forgotten about "A Mother's Rule of Life"... now that I'm nearly through my fourth month of pregnancy and feeling better, I've found I've misplaced the book! And this is a house positively overflowing with books... it could be anywhere.)

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.