Drawing of Dickinson done from a painting made when she was nine

Emily Dickinson 
(*10 December 1830 – † 15 May 1886)


We turn not older with years, but newer every day.
Letter to Frances and Louise Norcross, late 1872.

"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.