Emily #314

Hope is the thing with feathers
–Emily Dickinson

One of my favorite lines in poetry. I love how her six words speak volumes. The poem continues

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.

This is a poem to aspire towards. Her simplicity of words paints a picture of extraordinaire. Can you feel the positive vibes? Whatever you face, the Strangest sea or chillest land, she invites, come sit at the warmth of Emily.


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