"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.