• Hope is the Thing With Feathers – Emily Dickenson

  • 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 chilliest land,
    And on the strangest sea;
    Yet, never, in extremity
    It asked a crumb of me.