Waxing Poetic Wednesday: Emily Dickinson

Lately, I’ve felt the urge to indulge my English literature minor by sharing one of my loves: poetry. I’m especially fond of Victorian era poetry, and today’s poet-ess is one of my favorites, and not just because we share the same first name :). As long as I can find poetic inspiration, this feature will continue every Wednesday from now on. Share your favorite poem in the comments, it could end up on a future Waxing Poetic Wednesday!

Part One: Life

XXXII

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.