“Hope” is the thing with feathers
Emily Dickinson, 1891
Emily Dickinson's short poem picturing hope as a bird that perches in the soul and sings.
Hope is the thing with feathersThat 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 stormThat could abash the little birdThat 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.