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 in Poems, 1891.
