“Hope” is the thing with feathers – (314), Emily Dickinson

Given that my theme this week has been women poets and it is also Thanksgiving weekend, it seems appropriate to include Emily Dickinson here today. She is another poet I feel like I should know more about. I can see a plan forming for 2021 to read more poetry and I think Emily Dickinson will be near the top of the list. This poem is also timely as we start to come out of Lockdown: The Return and whilst normality is a long way off, perhaps, there is hope for some different interactions. Christmas comes, whatever that looks like, it is a change from the “routine” and there is hope for 2021.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers – (314)

“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.

c.1861.

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