Hope Is the Thing with Feathers - Emily Dickinson
"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.
