Hope is a thing with feathers- a poem for the day

"Hope" is a 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.

Emily Dickinson," Poem 254," ca 1861