“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 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.

poem on Nature by Emily Dickinson

“Nature” is what we see–
The Hill–the Afternoon–
Squirrel–Eclipse–the Bumble bee–
Nay–Nature is Heaven–
Nature is what we hear–
The Bobolink–the Sea–
Thunder–the Cricket–
Nay–Nature is Harmony–
Nature is what we know–
Yet have no art to say–
So impotent Our Wisdom is
To her Simplicity.