A thing with feathers

A book of Emily Dickinson’s poems was free for my Kindle, so I’ve been re-reading her work. I remember reading this particular poem in high school as part of my English Lit class. I appreciated it then, but I know it now. Thank you, Ms. Dickinson, for your words that so eloquently speak what I feel in my heart.

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.

Sing little bird. Today I need hope.


One thought on “A thing with feathers

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s