A Google search reveals the history of HOPE: “It’s a powerful word that inspires millions of people in many different languages. HOPE has moved people out of untenable (unbelievably horrible) situations into better lives, and has helped humans stay alive long enough to figure out how to thrive. HOPE is huge.”
In other words, “HOPE is the belief that our future can be better than our past, and that we have a role to play in making that future a reality (by setting appropriate goals).” In Christianity prose: “HOPE is never lost.”
Because poetry works to emphasize, in brief wording, an explanation on the meaning of a word, I would like to use my four chosen poems as an interpretation of the multi-meaning of HOPE.
In my next two columns written on THE VALUE OF HOPE (March 23 and April 4), I will print two poems on each date displaying their authors own “take” and/or my own “take” on HOPE. The interpreted explanation precedes each poem.
1. “Hope” Is The Thing With Feathers” by Emily Dickinson, American poet (1830-1886). HOPE is compared to the harsh surroundings of the persistent, unselfish beauty of a small bird’s singing to push for one’s survival.
“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 chilliest land –
And on the strangest Sea-
Yet – never -in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
2. “Little Boy Blue” by Eugene Field, American poet (1850-1895). HOPE comes from a deep sadness (physical emotions like the death of a loved one, especially a child) which represents a strong, optimistic yearning for betterment in this situation, a search for HOPE to spring eternal!
The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and staunch he stands;
The little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket molds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
And the soldier was passing fair;
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.
“Now don’t you go till I come,” he said,
“And don’t you make any noise!”
So, toddling off to his trundle bed,
He dreamt of the pretty toys;
And, as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue —
Oh! the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true!
Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face;
And they wonder, as waiting the long years through
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue,
Since he kissed them and put them there?
