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| Emily Dickinson's bedroom |
Only a few of Emily Dickinson's poems were published before she died. It was only later that the bulk of her writings were discovered in the dresser drawer of her room.
| HOPE is the thing with feathers | |
| That perches in the soul, | |
| And sings the tune without the words, | |
| And never stops at all, | |
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| And sweetest in the gale is heard; | |
| And sore must be the storm | |
| That could abash the little bird | |
| That kept so many warm. | |
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| I ’ve heard it in the chillest land, | |
| And on the strangest sea; | |
| Yet, never, in extremity, | |
| It asked a crumb of me. |
