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An Evening of Poetry - Thursday, September 29th, 2011


Three of my favorite poems by Emily Dickinson

~~~

A word is dead
When it is said,
~~Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
~~That day.

~~~

For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy.

For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years,
Bitter contested farthings,
And coffers heaped with tears.
~

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.
~~~