hope is the thing with feathers.

"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."

-Emily Dickinson

I found this in the quite delightful children's book, Feathers, today as I read it with a child and we stopped to discuss this poem and it's beauty...The 8 year old girl "got" it and my adult soul was also perked up a bit during the normal afternoon slump.