“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
by Emily Dickinson
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.
From The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, edited by Thomas H. Johnson. The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Found on the excellent Poetry Foundation website . Worth a visit.
3 comments:
Just beautiful, just plain beautiful, the image and the verse.
You cannot go past Emily Dickinson for the wisest and most wonderful of words. To use a cliche, they set my heart a flutter. Thanks for posting it.
How wrong Emily Dickinson was! Hope is not "the thing with feathers". The thing with feathers has turned out to be my nephew. I must take him to a specialist in Zurich. - Woody Allen
Deja vu!
This poem's start always reminds me of the first line from "Martian Sends a Postcard Home"...
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