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 chilliest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
For more on Emily Dickinson, visit Poets.org.
April is National Poetry Month. In celebration of this, UC Libraries has mounted an exhibit on the fourth floor of Langsam Library celebrating poetry and poets.
For more, visit http://www.libraries.uc.edu/elliston/poetryexhibit.html
