A poem by Emily Dickinson, hope is a thing with feathers, read by joe.
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“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.
Foreign With feathers By Emily Dickinson Hope is the thing with feathers that Perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words Never stops at all Swedish in the Gill is heard and soar Must be the storm That could have bashed a little bird That kept so many warm I've heard it in the chillest land not On the strangest sea Yet never in extremity has to crumb of Me [Music]
