"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.
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