Hope by Emily Dickinson

by bellstuff
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Hope by Emily Dickinson

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.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) lived in Amherst, Massachusetts, her entire life.

Emily lived as a recluse in her family's home, but she maintained lively, clever correspondence with her friends.

HOPE

After her death, her family discovered nearly 1800 unpublished poems!

I love the imagery of hope being a tiny bird that keeps me warm, even in life's worst storms. As Christians, we have eternal hope in God.

Psalm 43:5 Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.


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