Hope

"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.

~ Emily Dickinson