"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.
Hope can never be wiped out, and no matter how extreme the circumstance, it "sings the tune without the words - and never stops at all." It is the endless optimism that cannot be knocked down by even the fiercest Gale. Best of all, it never asks a thing of you, just giving tirelessly. That is the nature of Hope, that tiny bird inside your soul. I think I would do well to memorize this one.