words borrowed from 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.
--Emily Dickinson


  1. That's a sweet poem! I know basically nothing about poetry (shameful, right?) but I do think it's amazing and people who can do it are utterly talented.

  2. You don't have to know it to appreciate it. :) I love how the poet has one idea in mind when she writes the poem, but each reader comes away with something different.