"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown; The berry's cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I'll put a trinket on."
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Source: Emily Dickinson (2004). “Poems”, p.57, 1st World Publishing
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