"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.