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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 chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
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The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth, -
The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.
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The daisy follows soft the sun,
And when his golden walk is done,
Sits shyly at his feet.
He, waking, finds the flower near.
“Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?
Because, sir, love is sweet!”
We are the flower, Thou the sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline,
We nearer steal to Thee, -
Enamoured of the parting west,
The peace, the flight, the amethyst,
Night’s possibility!
The Daisy Follows Soft the Sun by Emily Dickinson
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If I can stop one heart from breaking
I shall not live in vain
If I can ease one life the aching
or cool one pain
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again
I shall not live in vain
-Emily Dickinson
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Emily Dickinson – It’s All I Have to Bring To-day
It’s all I have to bring to-day,
This, and my heart beside,
This, and my heart, and all the fields,
And all the meadows wide.
Be sure you count, should I forget, –
Someone the sum could tell, –
This, and my heart, and all the bees
Which in the clover dwell.
Emily Dickinson – It’s All I Have to Bring To-day
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