"Hope Is the Thing with Feathers," by Emily Dickinson

Hope Is the Thing with Feathers                            

1          Hope is the thing with feathers
2          That perches in the soul,
3          And sings the tune without the words,
4          And never stops at all,

5          And sweetest in the gale is heard;
6          And sore must be the storm
7          That could abash the little bird
8          That kept so many warm.

9          I've heard it in the chilliest land,
10        And on the strangest sea;
11        Yet, never, in extremity,
12        It asked a crumb of me.

- Emily Dickinson