Hope is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers.
It perches in the soul.
And sings the tune without the words.
And it never stops at all.
And the sweatest in the gale is heard.
And sore must be the storm.
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I have heard it in the chillest land.
And on the strangest sea.
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
It has been a long time that I could enjoy a night with myself. Lonely, but very cheerfully. By accident, I read this beautiful poem. Once again, I found the beauty of the poem, simply and meaningful. There are so many frustrated things happened in the world everyday. Just as this poem, I believe hope is the foundation of every success. What you have to do is just HOPE.
- Oct 21 Tue 2008 12:45