-
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 chills land - And
on the strangest Sea -
Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb
- of me.
Emily Dickinson
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