Hope Is The Thing With Feathers - by Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul...

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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