Thursday, 12 May 2011

a few words from


Emily Dickinson (1830–86).  Complete Poems.  1924.

Part One: Life

XXXII

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;        5
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;        10
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

3 comments:

  1. I don't think I've read Emily Dickinson since my high school days...nearly 50 years ago. I must go to the library and get a book of her works. I loved her back then.

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  2. I always liked Em's rhyme scheme

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  3. Makes me remember Meryl in Sophies choice.....

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Take the weight of your feet, draw up a chair and pour yourself a cuppa. Leave your troubles at the door and together we shall ride out the storms.
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Saz x