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
Hope Is the Thing With Feathers was written by Emily Dickinson & Ben Moore.