"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.