A common space for harmonic peacemakers
“Hope” is the thing with feathers
By 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.
this is my favourite from Emily Dickenson.. and i keep returning to it again.. i hope to write up a story here soon about this most wonderful bird.
Blessings to you! Thinking of you!
- I don't understand the meaning of the last line...- How do You see this? -
Rosmarie, i would say this wonderful bird asks nothing from us but gives us the opportunity to hear it sing.
Nicely expressed...Thank You, Desmond!
Ye, desmond. Spirit is indestructible, and hope a ceaseless song of spirit, fragile yet inviolate...