"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.
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