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