'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.
It is said that intellegent people speak words that are simple, well understood, and a clean thought....
I LOVE HER POEM 'I FELT A FUNERAL IN MY BRAIN' AND ''I FELT A CLEAVAGE IN MY MIND' MUCH.
This bird sings its song relentlessly, regardless of circumstances. AGAIN for the third time in such a short time The Classic Poem Of The Day!
THREE: Through surprising imagery and figurative language, Dickinson breathes new life into the abstract concept of hope, reminding us of its unwavering presence and strength Truly a most wonderful poem
The poem emphasizes the power of hope and how it requires very little from us. Hope has been a comforting companion during difficult times, never asking for anything in return.
a most beautiful poem Emily..thank you.. :)