| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - Some lines will even please your son's love for language.In the meantime, I leave you this poem by Emily Dickinson: HopeHope 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 have heard it in the chillest land, And on
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