“Hope” is the thing with feathers-

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.

Shakespeare is thought to have had a working vocabulary half that of the average modern person; yet, his literary invention was without limit, flying on the wings of a soaring imagination,to gift us with some of the greatest treasures of humanity. It`s not the amount of words that matter, but how they are chosen and arranged: if a single face could launch a thousand ships, then a handful of emotive letters gathered together by the mind of a genius can propel our imaginations into another world beyond the mundane reality within which we live. Emily Dickinson`s poems are deceptively simple in construction and length; but they contain within their spare frame, a world that stretches beyond the horizon. It`s always a great pleasure to stroll along the road with her; hand in hand with a unique mind that lives on forever within her infinite realm of words.

2 thoughts on “BIRD ON A WIRE

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