Saturday, 28 September 2019
‘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.
Labels:
Poetry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Your comments are most welcome. I have currently disabled anonymous comments due to unwanted spam. Cheers