Emily Dickinson – “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

The final two lines of this poem really mean a lot to me. They speak of how “Hope” is free to all. And in the context of the “chillest land” or the “strangest Sea”, we are reminded that even in the direst of circumstances, there is always one safe harbour available to all – our hope. What a unifying ideal! Imagine if anyone ‘hoping’ could all meet in this one place – just for a moment – and share a few pats-on-the-back and hi-5s. Then you’d know for sure, that everything always gets better; that there is never reason to dismantle the Sun.

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