"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.
(Emily Dickinson)

Hello all. I'm an early-career librarian who's been an amateur genealogist (and cemetery explorer) for as long as I can remember. I live in SoCal. I am also a great believer in hope. :)

Please don't use photos I post. If you want to, ask me and I might let you use some.

"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.
(Emily Dickinson)

Hello all. I'm an early-career librarian who's been an amateur genealogist (and cemetery explorer) for as long as I can remember. I live in SoCal. I am also a great believer in hope. :)

Please don't use photos I post. If you want to, ask me and I might let you use some.