Dead Poets Society #74 Emily Dickinson: Hope Is The Thing With Feathers

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.