"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 heart

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
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