" 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,.. 

( Emily Dickinson )

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.

( Emily Dickinson )