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 (227)

hope a grove of life
Dear Emily, she was wonderful and kind. A legend for us who love to read and write.
Hope like a fire on a hearth, can spark and burn bright once more.
hope is not like a dream therefore hope will be true after hard work this is a nice poem thanks
Fully occupied to influence someone’s thinking.
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