“Hope” Is The Thing With Feathers

“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 on the chillest land — and on the strangest Sea — Yet, never, in the Extremity, it asked a crumb of Me.

Emily Dickinson