Emily Dickinson

I Have No Life but This. "Hope" is the thing with feathers.

I Have No Live but This

I have no life but this,
To lead it here;
Nor any death, but lest
Dispelled fom there;

Nor tie to earths to come,
Nor action new,
Except through this extent,
The realm of you.

Back to the top.

"Hope" is the thing with feathers


"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.

Back to the top.

Back to the White Pages.