'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
Emily Dickinson
(2)
Poem topics: hope, sea, bird, soul, storm, warm, never, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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