New category on one of my forgotten passions – poetry. Though I think of it mostly as an adult pursuit, there’s no reason why kids cannot appreciate rhyme, metaphor and other poetic features from a young age. To kick things off, here is a delightful poem by Dickinson about that which springs eternal in the human heart. – Pilgrim Mom
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.