"Hope" is the thing with feathers↵
That perches in the soul,↵
And sings the tune without the words,↵
And never stops at all,↵
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And sweetest in the gale is heard;↵
And sore must be the storm↵
That could abash the little bird↵
That kept so many warm.↵
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I've heard it in the chillest land,↵
And on the strangest sea;↵
Yet, never, in extremity,↵
It asked a crumb of me.
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