In response to “Hope” is the thing with feathers (314)

Aviva Maxon ’24
Staff Writer

Hope might not ask a crumb from you,
But it certainly takes many

It might perch and sing, and never stop,
But in the darkest place, we sit and wonder,
Why hope flew
And where the feathers went,

After we are plucked and thrown back,
When the brightest lights go,
And we are left
Without a song to sing

Where did hope fly off to,
Where did his hope fly to that left the rest of us without?

Image Source: WCMA