“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.

“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.

🐥 “Hope” is the thing with feathers (314) by Emily Dickinson

Start your day with poetry, instead of the news.

Share 🐥 “Hope” is the thing with feathers (314) by Emily Dickinson

Sign up to save your podcasts

🐥 “Hope” is the thing with feathers (314) by Emily Dickinson

🐥 “Hope” is the thing with feathers (314) by Emily Dickinson