Hope is the Thing with Feathers
By: Emily Dickinson
"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.
Now I have chills. I adore Emily Dickinson and this is one of my very favorites.
ReplyDeleteLike KarenG, this is one of my favorite poems of Emily Dickinson. Thank you for bringing it to mind, to heal my spirit a a bit, Roland
ReplyDeleteI have always loved this poem. (=
ReplyDeleteI love Emily and I fell even more in love with her when I read Temptations by Douglas Kennedy last year. She has a way of creating magic with words.
ReplyDeleteIt is the oddest thing in fact that I should love poetry this much now because, i struggled with it at school, I found interpreting it so hard. Perhaps it was the prescriptive nature of the teachers then.