“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.
Dickinson often identifies the robin with singing, this is one of the places where she links that singing to her concept of “Hope.”
How do you perceive this time of year as our winter draws in ? does it fill you with hope for what is to come, give you an energy for the coming year ? or do you hibernate , shut down till the warmer weather ?
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