Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Hope is the thing...

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.
I have adored this poem forever.
After watching the inauguration today, hope is the feeling I was left with.

1 comment:

  1. I know the exact feeling. I have never been so hopeful as I am now for the future of this country and for the lives of my children. Great post!