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.
--Emily Dickinson
This was the first Emily Dickinson poem I heard, and remains one of my favorites. I have always valued hope, and have been able to find some, even if -- and perhaps, especially when -- faith was harder.
No comments:
Post a Comment