"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. ...