Hope Is The Thing With Feathers

'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.

by Emily Dickinson

Comments (7)

Such a brilliant poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes.....
Old comrade- old friend- old schools- old days - Oliver Wendell... such a lovely creative...
Beautiful poem on friendship. Loved the rhyming and flow. 'Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame? A fitful tongue of leaping flame; A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust, That lifts a pinch of mortal dust; A few swift years, and who can show Which dust was Bill and which was Joe? ', , is so nice.
Excellent piece of write.
Old comrade! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
See More