Hope Is the thing with feathers

"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.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

~ BY Emily Dickinson

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