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<h1>HOPE.</h1>
<br/>
Hope is the thing with feathers<br/>
That perches in the soul,<br/>
And sings the tune without the words,<br/>
And never stops at all,<br/>
<br/>
And sweetest in the gale is heard;<br/>
And sore must be the storm<br/>
That could abash the little bird<br/>
That kept so many warm.<br/>
<br/>
I 've heard it in the chillest land,<br/>
And on the strangest sea;<br/>
Yet, never, in extremity,<br/>
It asked a crumb of me.<br/>
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