Emily Dickinson
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"Hope" ist 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 keeps 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, The Complete Poems. Boston 1924.
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| Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson. | Emily Dickinson, The Poems of Emily Dickinson. | Emily Dickinson, Biene und Klee. 52 Shorter Poems. |