"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.