“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. the author believes…….