January52010
"“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 (I first came across the poem because Woody Allen quotes a line in his book, titled, “Without Feathers.” I feel like Woody Allen quoting Dickinson is enough to make any quasi-literate, hipster former English major just about explode with glee.)
