Emily Dickinson, Untitled Poem 254:
Hope is the thing with feathersRead more Dickinson:
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.
The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, edited by Thomas H. Johnson.
- One of the quotations featured in Mosley Lane (season 5) was the first stanza of this poem.