A Poem for Sunday: "Hope" is the Thing with Feathers by Emily Dickinson

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="332"]Hooded Warbler Singing Hooded Warbler Singing by BackpackingBirder, on Flickr[/caption] “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.