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 (4)

'' the heavens of his cheek '': ... mm.. what is the real meaning?
[I saw his round mouth's crimson deepen as it fell], Like a Sun, in his last deep hour; Watched the magnificent recession of farewell, Clouding, half gleam, half glower, And a last splendour burn the heavens of his cheek. And in his eyes The cold stars lighting, very old and bleak, In different skies. - in ITALIAN: [Vidi il rosso cremisi della sua bocca rotonda incupirsi mentre cadeva], Come un sole, basso, nella sua ultima ora; Vidi il magnifico ritiro del commiato, Rannuvolarsi, per metà brillante, per metà torvo, E un ultimo splendore bruciare i cieli della sua guancia. E nei suoi occhi Le fredde stelle accendersi, antiche e tetre, In altri cieli.
I think its a nice one, very good
Amazing first line, and the rest's not bad as well.