Hope is the thing . . .
Emily Dickinson’s “Hope is the thing with feathers” has always resonated with me. I made my students memorize it because I told them they might need it on sad days. Those days come and go for all.
Why are some people hopeful about the future in these troubled political times so confident the truth will out and America will be free of anti-Democracy forces? Perhaps hope is genetic, but everyone has the power within to plug into hope.
Here’s my teacher challenge to you: memorize this poem or copy it on your phone —and when you feel low, go outdoors or open your window. Listen. If you’re lucky you’ll hear a bird singing all my itself on some limb. Just for you.
We have sparrows in particular who sing happily in the morning. Coffee music for my soul. Sparrows are like me, not flashy or argumentative like blue jays, but always singing, enjoying the moment. We all need to start saving images, music, books to keep the hope alive this year.
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Hope is the thing with feathers (254)
By Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
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
Hope is my superpower. It became so after my son disappeared. It was either that or believing the lies of fear. I prefer hope.
Thank you Diane!
I often find that as we work to improve the quality and dignity of life, often beset by overwhelming consequences, we ride on the wings of hope.
Emily Dickinson poetry is a perfect reminder -and thank you.