Saturday, March 9, 2013

Hope is the thing with feathers : Poem in Your Post


“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

On my way to our state's Poetry Out Loud competition this morning to root for a ninth grader from my school who'll be performing this American classic, among other worthy poems.  

It's a perfect blue-sky day for a train ride along the water, a brisk walk to a lovely lunch, and an afternoon of poetry performances!

MFB,
L


3 comments:

Anne Bennett said...

I love this poem. My 9th grader flaked out and was a no-show at the regional competition. I am so angry with her I can hardly look her in the eyes when I see her. Good luck to your little darling. Will she take you if she wins the trip to DC?

As the Crowe Flies and Reads said...

You know I'm not a huge poetry reader, but this one I actually know. I think Emily Dickinson has some incredible first lines and this one is among my favorites.

Parrish Lantern said...

Perhaps You Have Dreams - John Stammers

Perhaps you have dreams of a flat in Hampstead,
of a box at the Opera each weekend,
of buying candelabras and dinner parties you’d attend.

I have, for my sins, been a denizen of a West Heath pad,
seen any number of different Mimis fall dead,
and eaten by candle-light something light on a something green bed.

Perhaps all dreams are what someone who wants you has had
and, not being able to have you, has had what you wanted instead.

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