Emily Dickinson

(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers - Poem by 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.

Topic(s) of this poem: hope

Form: Sonnet


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Read poems about / on: hope, sea



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

Poem Edited: Tuesday, September 15, 2015


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