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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.
From The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
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Thanks Harrison! One of my favorites of one of my favorites!
I love this poem. Thanks!
Remember, anyone can suggest possibilities for next week’s poem. Titles and authors only. Don’t feel like you need to post the text of the poem. Let it be a surprise.
The last line is kind of curious. I always presumed that hope is a theological virtue, rather than an unbidden or default state, because it can be very painful to listen to and take a lot of courage and energy to act on.
Worthy of Hallmark!
David L.,
Your comment illuminates my problem with posting poems. I, too, find poems with end-rhymes a little matchy-matchy for my tastes, although if Shakespeare did it, it must be okay.
When I post more contemporary non-rhyming works, they get slammed. When I post more conventional rhyming poems, they get slammed.
I think Dickensen’s rhyme in the poem isn’t quite ready for Hallmark, though. It’s subtler than Roses are red (like the rhyming lines 2 and 4 of the first stanza), and the pattern is more synchopated.
I was just giving you a hard time, Mr. Key. I love rhyme in poetry (even though Milton denigrated it in his preface to “Paradise Lost”). So the rhyming doesn’t bother me here. It’s just that is one of Dickinson’s cheesiest poems–hope as a little birdie that makes us all feel warm inside. I just probably would have chosen a poem of hers that was less well-known and dealt with things in a more substantial way.
But don’t let my sarcasm get to you. Keep bringing on the poems.
So here I am to chime in;
I like poems a-rhymin’.
I love Emily Dickinson. I really discovered her in high school (lol, “in high school” I love saying that). That poem reminded me of all the stories I have read that end on a note of “hope” with no basis for that hope at all. Depressing, really.