"Hope is the thing with feathers—
That perches m thesoulAnd smgs the tune without the wordsAnd never stops—at all—
And sweetest—iii the Gale2—is heardAnd sore must be the stormThat coukl ahash3 the little Bird
That kept so many warm—
I've heard it in the chi I lest landAnd on the strangest Sea—
^ et, never, in Extremity ,
It asked a crumb of me.
That perches m thesoulAnd smgs the tune without the wordsAnd never stops—at all—
And sweetest—iii the Gale2—is heardAnd sore must be the stormThat coukl ahash3 the little Bird
That kept so many warm—
I've heard it in the chi I lest landAnd on the strangest Sea—
^ et, never, in Extremity ,
It asked a crumb of me.
