"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 litle 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.