Don’t rely on your mind for liberation.
It is the mind that brought you into bondage.
Go beyond it altogether.
The wild warblers are warbling in the jungle
Of life and spring of the lustrious inundations,
Flood on flood, of our returning sun.
Day after day, throughout the winter,We hardened ourselves to live by bluest reasonIn a world of wind and frost,And by will, unshaken and floridIn mornings of angular ice,That passed beyond us through the narrow sky.But what are radiant reason and radiant willTo warblings early in the hilarious treesOf summer, the drunken mother?–Wallace Stevens
"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.