Hope

Hope is the things with feathers that perches in the soul Sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all All The sweetest in the gale is heard, and so must be the storm That could abash the little bird that kept so many warm 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 It asked a crumb of me Hope is the things with feathers that perches in the soul Sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all All The sweetest in the gale is heard, and so must be the storm That could abash the little bird that kept so many warm 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