Friday, 9 May 2014

Poetry Corner #3

This week I am going to share a beautiful poem by Emily Dickinson, an american poet.   

"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 1830 - 1886


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