HOPE IS THE THING WITH FEATHERS
by EMILY DICKINSON
“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.
