"Hope" is the thing with feathers—

by Emily Dickinson

"Hope" is the thing with feathers —
That 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 storm —
That could abash the little Bird
That 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.

Poetry by Emily Dickinson (edit list):
By letter of the alphabet:	A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, Y.
By Johnson's index number	1-99, 100-199, 200-299, 300-399, 400-499, 500-599, 600-699, 700-799, 800-899, 900-999, 1000-1099, 1100-1199, 1200-1299, 1300-1399, 1400-1499, 1500-1599, 1600-1699, 1700-1775.