"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.