Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words And never stops at all.
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.
If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain If I can ease one life the aching Or cool one pain Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again I shall not live in vain.
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire ever can warm me I know *that* is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know *that* is poetry.
Heart! We will forget him! You and I -- tonight! You may forget the warmth he gave -- I will forget the light! When you have done, pray tell me That I may straight begin! Haste! lest while you're lagging I remember him!