"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.