"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.