soul"Hope" is the thing
with feathers -
That perches
in the - 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.