“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.
Originally published in Poems (1891) by Emily Dickinson. Public domain.
Analysis
Hope appears as a tireless bird whose song persists through storms and distances. Dickinson emphasizes its generosity: it sustains without demanding anything in return.