Sore Must Be The Storm

A dear friend of mine just started a blog and in one of her first entries quoted Emily Dickinson. So this is inspired by the pair of them: my dear friend and Dickinson. I'd like to share two lovely poems written by the latter. I wish I had words of my own, but hers are so much more than enough.

Hope is the thing with feathers
The 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, extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

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I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us - don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!