Hope is the thing with feathers
Hope is the thing with feathers
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.
Verse breaks and indentation are preserved. Wrapped lines have a hanging indent. Width adapts to your screen.
Written c. 1861. Published 1891.
