"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

litle

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.