Friday, July 17, 2015

"Hope" is the thing with feathers--REVISITED

“Hope” is the thing with talons—
That latches to the soul—
And sings the tune of sirens’ cries—
And never stops—at all—

Those strangled—in the Flood—are heard—
Air bubbles popping nigh—
Yet none abide the little Bird
That lures with cunning Lie—

I’ve heard it in the chillest man—
And in the desperate Plea—
And—sadly—in Extremity,
It plays its trick—on me.

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