Hope Is the Thing with Feathers - Emily Dickinson

 "Hope" is the thing with feathers - 
That perches in the soul -
And sings a 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.