“Hope” is the thing with feathers


“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.

-Emily Dickinson

I found this poem printed on a piece of paper one day and happened to pick it up. I had read the words before, maybe in a high school English class, but they had never resonated with me until that day. Now I keep the poem wedged in the corner of my mirror where I look at it every morning. Somehow, the imagery continues to comfort me. A small bird, eternally singing of the light it believes in. Something to believe in me.


6 thoughts on ““Hope” is the thing with feathers

  1. I love, love, love this poem! Hope truly is a feathery, winged, amazing thing. Hold on to it! 😊 I love the flowers on your pic, they grow around here too in all shades from very light pink to deep magenta and purple.

  2. That is a HOPE poem to read undoubtedly & the beauty of the picture enhances a heart as well.
    So glad you have returned to writing/posting on a regular basis

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