I know I have featured this Emily Dickinson poem here before but it just seems especially appropriate at this moment. A new year filled with endless possibilities - surely a cause for hope.
‘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.
The opening line is known around the world, yet I bet many don't know the name of the author. That's success! It is a wonderful piece of verse.
ReplyDeleteI particularly like the second stanza - "sore must be the storm that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm." Hope does indeed keep us warm and is the last thing to die.
DeleteYes, I remember this poem and I remember loving the first verse so with its bird imagery. Thank you for sharing it again.
ReplyDeleteIt's that first verse that really draws you in. Ah, to have Dickinson's way with words!
DeleteIt's a poem worth reading (and sharing!) more than once. Great choice for this week. :D
ReplyDeleteIt called out to me so how could I not share it!
DeleteI like it when a poem is featured more than once. And this is definitely a poem that is worthy of being re-shared.
ReplyDeleteAgreed!
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