"Hope" is the thing with feathers -



And sings the tune without the words -



And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -



That could abash the little Bird



I’ve heard it in the chillest land -



Yet - never - in Extremity,

That perches in the soul -







And never stops - at all -







And sore must be the storm -







That kept so many warm -







And on the strangest Sea -







It asked a crumb - of me.